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Art  &  Religion 


Bertram  Grosvenor  Goodhue. 


REREDOS  •   ST.  THOMAS  S  CHURCH 
NEW  YORK  CITY 


Art  &  Religion 


B>'  Von  Ogden  Vogt  , 


New  Haven :  Yale  University  Press 

London:  Humphrey  Milford:  Oxford  University  Press 

Mdccccxxi 


MOFFITT-UGL 


7r 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
Yale  University  Press 


b\/i5o 


^^,  ■  ■/ 1 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  FATHER 

WHOSE  MENTAL  INTEREST  KINDLED  MINE 

AND  TO  MY  MOTHER 

WHO  IS  A  MYSTIC 


Preface 

ONE  puts  forth  any  venture  of  constructive  sugges- 
tion for  these  confused  times  only  with  the  greatest 
diffidence,  knowing  far  better  than  any  critic  can 
know  the  weaknesses  and  ignorances  revealed. 

Yet  there  need  be  no  diffidence  about  any  fresh  testimony 
that  beauty  is  desirable  and  good :  nor  about  the  consequent 
contention  that  the  religion  of  Protestantism  stands  pro- 
foundly in  need  of  realizing  it.  This,  together  with  some 
practical  explications,  is  all  I  want  to  say  to  churchmen. 

To  artists  and  lovers  of  the  beautiful,  I  want  to  speak  my 
definite  expectation  of  a  time  soon  to  come  again  when 
patrons  of  the  arts  will  see  in  the  religious  institution  an 
incomparable  opportunity  for  the  most  pervasive  influence 
of  beauty  upon  the  people.  Every  church  building  in  village 
or  city  should  itself  be  a  noble  work  of  art.  And  the  arts 
have  each  a  proper  place  in  the  fostering  of  the  supreme 
experience  of  worship. 

I  am  led  to  say  these  things  by  the  very  oppressive  burden 
of  disunity  in  the  spiritual  life  of  the  community  and  the 
time.  There  cannot  be  an  age  of  great  artistic  brilliance  until 
we  reach  a  more  nearly  harmonious  faith.  I  am  happy  in  the 
simple  daily  work  of  a  parish  minister.  But  I  am  unhappy 
and  deeply  disquieted  amidst  the  discord  in  the  religious 
world.  I  wish  I  could  have  mental  fellowship  with  the 
Catholics :  I  wish  I  could  have  it  with  more  of  my  Protestant 
brethren :  not  merely  for  the  easement  of  my  own  aesthetic 
discomfort,  but  for  the  sake  of  countless  others.  There  can 
be  no  cure  for  many  souls  until  we  are  together. 

Inasmuch  as  many  readers  wish  to  know  who  it  is  who 
speaks  of  any  matter,  it  is  proper  to  state  that  I  am  the 
regularly  installed  pastor  of  a  Congregational  Church.  Much 
of  my  feeling  in  things  ecclesiastical  is  doubtless  derived, 
however,  from  the  Reformed  Church  in  which  I  was  bap- 

•  ix- 


Preface 

tized  and  to  which  several  American  grandfathers  belonged, 
as  their  fathers  before  them  in  the  Swiss  Church. 

The  illustrations  presented  are  taken  mostly  from  the  free 
churches.  One  expects  an  Episcopal  Church  to  be  beautiful 
and  one  looks  for  an  altar  in  it.  The  noteworthy  thing  is  the 
number  of  free  churches  which  have  revived  the  ancient 
setting  for  the  communion  table  at  the  head  of  an  apse  or 
chancel. 

I  wish  gratefully  to  acknowledge  much  practical  help 
from  Miss  Grace  E.  Babcock.  For  the  loan  or  gift  of  photo- 
graphs, I  am  very  pleasantly  indebted  to  Messrs.  Charles 
Collens,  Ralph  Adams  Cram,  Bertram  Grosvenor  Goodhue, 
the  Society  of  Arts  and  Crafts,  Detroit,  and  the  Society  of 
Arts  and  Crafts,  Boston. 

Von  Ogden  Vogt. 

Wellington  Avenue  Church  Study, 
February  25,  1921. 


Table  of  Contents 

I.  Introduction        .....  i 

Truth,  goodness,  and  beauty.  The  new  age.  The  close  of  the 
Reformation  age,  Prdfestant  negation  of  the  arts.  Catholic 
acceptance  of  modernism.  Tlie^art  of  worship  the  all-com- 
prehending  art.  Proposals  for  examining  the  connections'  of 
art  _and  religion,  historical,  psychological,  and  practical. 
Proposals  of  liturgical  principles  and  materials.  Proposals 
for  architectural  style,  tone,  significance,  and  tendencies. 
Current  writings  about  the  new  age. 

II.  An  Age  Described  by  Its  Art  .  .  9 

No  satisfactory  art  in  a  nondescript  age.  The  arts  born  of 
the  national  and  time  spirit.  The  relations  of  art  to  unified 
life.  The  youth,  size,  and  complexity  of  Americair  lifc;"The 
chiming  description. 

III.  The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art     .  .        18 

Religion  the  source  of  primitive  arts.  Religion  the  principal 
subject  matter  of  historic  art.  The  inner  identity  of  the 
mystic  and  aesthetic  experience.  The  demand  for  unity  in 
composition  and  in  reality.  The  feeling  of  STrttsfactlobL  de- 
ri vedTfom  beautY_and  from  being.  The  creativity  of  art  and 
of  religion.  ~  ~~ 

IV.  The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion       .        34 

1.  The  cleft  between  religion  and  science. 

2.  The  cleft  between  religion  and  morals. 

3.  The  cleft  between  religion  and  art. 

The  Roman  Mass.  Catholic  architecture.  The  Anglican 
Prayer  Book,  Protestant  forms.  American  church  architec- 
ture. 

•  xi  • 


Table  of  Contents 

V.  The  Mutual  Need        ....        48 

The  world  of  the  arts  the  source  of  spiritual  life  for  many. 
The  world  of  religion.  Art  needs  religion — -to  unii^^fsalize 
its  concepts,  to  supply  moral  content.  Religion-^ieeds  the 
arts— to  be  impressive,  to  g;eta  hearing,  to  be  enjoyable,  to 
assisffeverence,  to  symbolize  0ld:::irutIis,  to  iieighten  the 
imagination,  to  fire  resolyes. 

VI.  Corporeality  in  Religion      ...        56 

1.  The  corporeality  of  objects  and  acts. 

2.  The  corporeality  of  creeds. 

3.  The  corporeality  of  crude  excitement. 

VII.  The  Sensational  Character  of  Art  .        63 

The  sensational  preacher.  Modem  view  of  human  nature. 
Sensational  conduct  of  ancient  religious  teachers.  The  sense 
appeal  of  the  Japanese  temple  and  of  the  English  cathedral. 

VIII.  A  Brief  for  the  Cultus       ...        67 

Religious  culture  primary  in  religion.  Its  historical  recogni- 
tion. Its  apparatus  or  ritual.  The  necessity  of  religious  acts. 
The  source  of  perpetuity.  The  sermon  an  insufficient  basis  for 
religious  culture.  The  background  of  change.  Modem  possi- 
bilities. 

IX.  Prophet  and  Priest    ....        82 

The  conflict  between  reforming  prophets  and  conserving 
priests.  The  prophet  as  instrument  of  change.  The  priest  as 
Teacher,  Spiritual  Adviser,  Pastor,  and  Artist. 

X.  The  Artist  as  Prophet  ...        90 

Traditionalism  preserved  by  the  arts.  The  aloofness  and  law- 
lessness of  artists.  The  historic  divergence  of  artistic  forms 
from  their  content,  Egyptian,  Greek,  Italian.  New  ideas 
through  the  arts.  The  permanence  of  beauty. 

•  xii  • 


Table  of  Contents 

XL  Symbols  and  Sacraments     ...        97 

Classic  and  Romantic  methods.  Universality  and  power  of 
symbols.  Danger  of  symbols.  Idolatry.  The  meaning  of  a 
sacrament.  The  spiritual  presence.  The  material^  elements. 
Baptism  and  the  Eucharist.  Objective  value  and  validity. 
Transubstantiation  of  persons. 

XII.  Religious  Education  .  .  .107 

.Qbs£xvinp_beauty.  Modern  religion  weakly  impressive.  The 
power  ofritual.  Worship  in  the  church  school.  Children  in 
the  church  service.  Adult  education  in  religion.  Theological 
schools  deficient  in  religious  culture.  The  state  university  and 
the  Christian  college. 

XIII.  Church  Unity  .  .  .  .116 

Difficulties  of  unity  in  thought  and  action.  The  unifying 
effects  of  feeling.  The  desire  for  more  inclusive  religious 
experience.  The  incompleteness  of  separate  types.  The  serv- 
ice of  art  in  promoting  unity.  The  revival  of  mediaevalism, 
liturgically  and  architecturally.  The  community  church. 
The  flank  attack  in  debate.  Universal  similarity  of  mystic 
experiences. 

XIV.  Technique  and  Freedom  .  .  -133 

The  positive  character  of  freedom.  Futility  of  complete  inde- 
pendency. The  incoherence  of  liberalism.  The  necessity  for 
critically  improved  technique  in  worship.  A  new  service 
book.  Scholarship  in  liturgies.  Ceremonial.  Freedom  not  the 
gift  of  formlessness  but  the  mastery  of  form. 

XV.  The  Mysticism  of  Isaiah  .  .  -145 
The  identity  of  the  experience  of  worship  and  that  of  beauty. 
The  elements  of  the  experience:  vision,  humility,  exalta- 
tion, illumination,  dedication.  Isaiah's  great  record. 

XVI.  The  Order  of  the  Liturgy  .  .152 

Outer  expression  in  the  order  of  worship  parallel  to  the  ele- 
ments of  the  inner  experience  of  worship.  The  principal 

•  xiii  • 


Table  of  Contents 

liturgical  parts.  Dramatic  unity.  Miss  Underbill's  analysis 
of  the  Mass.  The  need  for  experiment. 

XVII.  Introit  and  Antiphons     .  .  .166 

The  revival  of  the  Introit.  Materials  for  it.  Process  of  ideas 
in  it.  Copies  of  antiphonals  used  at  the  Wellington  Avenue 
Church. 

XVIII.  Music 174 

Music  the  highest  art.  The  unity  of  the  service.  Faults  of 
anthems.  The  matrix  of  the  service.  Members  of  the  choir 
as  ministers  in  the  sanctuary.  Antiphonals.  Especially  com- 
posed services. 

XIX.  Architectural  Style  .  .  .180 

Sketch  of  Greek,  Roman,  Romanesque,  Byzantine,  Gothic, 
and  Renaissance  building,  together  with  meanings  inti- 
mated by  these  historic  styles.  Current  style  revivals  in 
Gothic  and  Classic  strains.  The  question  of  style  revival  or 
translation.  The  new  architecture. 

XX.  Structural  Tone       ....      203 

Tonal  effects  of  interiors.  The  faults  of  neutrality,  comfort- 
ableness, coldness,  agitation.  The  virtues  of  repose,  austerity, 
warmth,  and  brilliance.  The  effects  of  proportion,  scale,  and 
materials. 

XXI.  The  Chancel  .  .  .  .214 

The  historic  Christian  Church  chancel.  Its  revival  amongst 
non-liturgical  churches.  The  artistic  high  light,  the  differen- 
tiation of  liturgical  parts,  practical  convenience.  Recent 
opinions.  The  use  of  altar  and  candle  light.  Ineffective  com- 
promises. Adaptability  of  the  chancel. 

XXII.  Practicable  Matters        .  .  .      229 

Educational  and  social  facilities  of  the  church  building. 
Placement  of  the  structure.  Problems  of  the  smaller  church. 

•  xiv  • 


Table  of  Contents 

Partial  construction.  The  aesthetic  character  of  practica- 
bility. 

XXIII.  Religious  Ideas  for  the  Architect     .      236 

A  House  of  God.  A  House  of  Man.  A  House  of  Salvation. 
The  intimations  of  modern  free  thinking,  brotherhood,  and 
art. 

XXIV.  The  Future  Church        .  .  .      243 

The  delimitation  of  church  functions.  Integrations  of  the 
new  age.  The  mergence^fjiistoric  faith  and  natural  religion, 
in  the  Apostolic  agef  m  the  coming  age.  A  time  of  formation. 
Truth,  Goodness,  Beauty.  The  primary  category.  Survey  of 
the  character  of  the  coming  cultus.  Christian  content  in 
ancient  categories. 

Appendix      ......      252 

Orders  of  service  in  the  Wellington  Avenue  Church, 
Chicago. 

Index  .......      257 


XV 


List  of  Illustrations 
Reredos,  St.  Thomas's  Church,  New  York       .  frontispiece 

PAGE 

Pulpit,   First  Baptist  Church,   Pittsburgh,   Pennsyl- 
vania        .  .  .  .  .  .  .21 

First  Church  in  Cheshire,  Connecticut     ...  43 

Carved  Oak  Triptych           .....  79 

Silver  Crozier;  Christmas  in  Heaven;  St.  Peter           .  95 

Skinner  Memorial  Chapel,  Holyoke,  Massachusetts  .  123 

Silver  Alms  Basin;  Altar  Cross  in  Silver,  Ivory,  and 

Enamel ;  Carved  and  Gilded  Candlestick  .  .      141 

First    Baptist    Church,    Pittsburgh,    Pennsylvania; 

Second  Church  in  Boston,  Massachusetts  .  .193 

House  of  Hope,  St.  Paul,  Minnesota,  Presbyterian     .      209 

South  Church,  New  York  City,  Reformed         .  .219 

Second  Church  in  Newton,  Massachusetts,  Congrega- 
tional     .......        225 

St.  Anne's  Chapel,  Arlington  Heights,  Massachusetts     231 

First  Congregational  Church,  Montclair,  New  Jersey     237 

Second  Church  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  Unitarian  .      247 


XVI 


Art  &  Religion 


Chapter  I :  Introduction 

IT  would  seem  that  humanity  permanently  values  truth, 
goodness,  and  beauty.  These  values  are  essential  to  reli- 
gion. But  there  is  a  cleft  between  the  popular  religion 
of  our  day  and  all  these  three.  There  are  many  persons 
engaged  in  healing  the  breach  between  religion  and  science; 
equally  many  concerned  with  a  new  ethical  seriousness  in 
religion;  few  seem  to  be  aware  of  the  cleft  between  religion 
and  art. 

A  new  age  is  coming.  It  will  be  upon  us  swiftly  and  we 
must  bestir  our  imaginations  to  prepare  for  it.  We  are  like 
the  dwellers  in  the  war-swept  areas  of  the  old  world  whose 
homes  were  wrecked  by  shell  fire.  Our  intellectual  houses  are 
falling  about  our  ears.  We  do  not  yet  know  whether  we  must 
rebuild  them  or  desert  them.  We  are  hurriedly  wondering 
what  to  save  from  the  wreckage.  We  are  half  unconsciously 
taking  stock  of  our  valuables;  making  new  appraisals  of 
what  is  most  precious.  It  is  a  time  of  reexamination  of  all 
things,  a  time  of  changes,  profound  and  universal.  The  dis- 
organization of  normal  life  by  the  great  war  has  compelled 
a  new  openness  of  mind  and  roused  new  demands  for  better 
life. 

Yet  it  is  not  the  war  experience  that  is  causing  the  new 
age.  It  hastens  it;  it  more  rapidly  closes  the  old  age;  it  will 
perhaps  in  history  mark  the  end  of  a  period  about  ready  to 
be  ended  anyway.  The  breakdown  of  many  old  sanctions  and 
standards  was  already  taking  place.  The  crisis  of  war  if  not 
the  agent  was  the  powerful  reagent,  precipitating  that  which 
the  old  formulas  could  no  longer  hold  in  solution. 

These  values  that  we  are  reappraising,  these  formulas 
that  are  breaking  down,  what  are  they?  In  the  main  they 
are  the  work  of  the  Reformation  age.  We  have  been  living 
religiously  and  morally  and  politically  by  the  premises  and 
forms  of  thought  established  by  the  Reformation.  This  does 


Art  &  Religion 

not  mean  that  these  principles  have  been  accepted  by  all  or 
that  they  are  now  to  be  entirely  displaced.  It  does  mean  that 
Reformation  assumptions  have  quite  generally  wrought 
themselves  into  all  departments  of  human  life,  that  their 
logic  is  fairly  complete,  and  that  it  is  now  time  to  estimate 
their  success  and  failure. 

The  new  premises,  sanctions,  and  standards,  whence  are 
they?  They  are  largely  the  effects  of  nineteenth  century 
science  and  mechanics,  both  negative  and  positive.  We  do 
not  know  exactly  what  they  are,  nor  shall  we  until  they  are 
half  consciously  established  in  practice.  They  relate  to 
changed  conceptions  of  individualism  and  freedom,  author- 
ity, property,  education,  human  nature,  liberty,  art.  These 
and  other  interests  are  to  be  differently  conceived  than  in 
the  period  under  Reformation  dominance.  Science  is  not 
alone  the  sufficient  cause  of  these  transformations.  It  is 
rather  the  efficient  cause,  the  force  that  will  break  much 
remaining  mediaevalism,  confirm  the  central  Reformation 
Protest  and  then  displace  both  Protestant  and  Catholic 
sanctions,  preparing  the  way  for  the  positive  work  of  new 
forces  in  philosophy,  popular  morality,  art,  and  religion. 

The  Reformation  age  is  being  effectively  closed  by  the 
work  of  nineteenth  century  science,  its  close  marked  by  the 
upheaval  of  war.  But  the  new  age  will  not  be  predominantly 
scientific.  Science  has  displayed,  negatively,  what  it  cannot 
do  for  human  life  as  well  as  what  it  can  do.  Approved  scien- 
tific method  will  go  forward  to  be  one  of  the  major  instru- 
mentalities of  the  new  good.  But  art  will  be  another  major 
instrumentality.  Both  will  be  agents  in  forming  the  new  age 
after  the  desires  of  life  itself,  that  human  experience  of  uni- 
versal life  which  we  call  religion  and  which  alone  is  the 
sufficient  cause  of  human  good. 

A  new  age  is  never  an  entire  break  with  the  past.  It  car- 
ries forward  from  the  immediate  past  much  that  does  not 
logically  belong  with  the  new  forms.  It  carries  forward  from 
the  more  remote  past  much  that  is  still  more  out  of  harmony 
with  the  new  forms.  And  it  restores  some  things  from  the 
distant  past  more  useful  and  valued  in  the  new  age  than 
they  were  in  the  immediately  previous  one.  Feelings  and 

•2- 


Introduction 

forces  are  swept  out  of  notice,  even  for  long  periods,  which 
later  come  back  freshly  to  benefit  and  balance  human  life. 
One  of  these  feelings  is  the  feeling  for  beauty,  one  of  these 
forces  is  the  force  of  artistry. 

The  Reformation  age  has  not  been  favorable  to  the  arts. 
Protestantism  has  been  chary  of  the  arts  and  suspicious  of 
the  artist.  Ancient  and  mediaeval  feeling  for  beauty  has  been 
all  but  extinguished  throughout  large  bodies  of  Christians. 
It  is  coming  back,  irresistibly  and  swiftly.  I  am  all  too  un- 
happily aware  that  mediaeval  ecclesiastics  will  say:  I  told 
you  so :  you  should  never  have  left  us :  give  the  Protestants 
time  and  they  will  all  return  to  the  fold.  Nothing  could  be 
more  greatly  in  error  than  so  to  estimate  our  new  interest  in 
beauty.  Mediaeval  ecclesiasticism,  incompatible  alike  with 
the  noble  morality  and  the  progressively  democratic  politics 
of  the  Reformation  age,  will  be  utterly  alien  to  the  new 
age.  It  is  an  all  but  unbelievable  tragedy  that  the  old 
churches  still  refuse  to  hear  the  great  Protest,  the  very 
while  that  children  of  the  Reformers  are  beginning  to  see 
the  good  things  their  fathers  swept  away  together  with  the 
bad. 

There  would  be  no  question  about  the  coming  of  a  new 
and  glorious  age  if  the  older  churches  might  honestly  try 
to  understand  the  claims  of  the  free  churches,  and  if  the 
reformed  churches  might  with  equal  candor  survey  their 
faults  and  weaknesses.  We  cannot  enter  upon  a  great  con- 
structive time  without  bold,  disinterested,  and  imaginative 
effort  on  the  part  of  religious  leaders  to  these  ends.  We  can- 
not enter  the  new  age  until  the  old  churches  give  up  their 
concepts  of  an  authoritative  faith  "once  delivered  to  the 
saints"  and  freely  accept  the  spirit  of  modernism:  nor  until 
the  rank  and  file  of  the  free  churches  do  the  same  thing,  as 
their  leaders  have  already  done. 

And  this  effort  must  begin  at  home.  It  is  time  for  every 
churchman  to  realize  that  his  particular  sect  is  insufficient 
for  the  brilliant  life  of  the  new  age.  Others  have  examined 
it  and  found  it  wanting.  It  will  do  little  good  for  Protestants 
to  lay  all  the  blame  upon  the  Catholics  or  upon  each  other. 
There  is  needed  a  rigorous  attempt  amongst  all  Protestant 

•3- 


Art  &  Religion 

faiths  to  reestimate  the  essentials  of  religious  life,  and  to 
acknowledge  how  many  of  these  are  found  in  the  old  church, 
and  how  many  are  lacking  in  the  common  American  denomi- 
national parish. 

In  a  general  way,  the  great  lack  of  Protestantism  is  not 
intellectual  nor  moral  but  artistic,  not  ethical  but  cultural. 
In  the  pioneer  and  commercial  stages  of  American  life  this 
lack  has  not  been  so  noticeable  or  unfortunate.  For  the  most 
part  those  who  have  recognized  the  severance  of  art  from 
religion  are  chiefly  persons  who  have  felt  the  ungodliness  of 
art  rather  than  the  ugliness  of  religious  fonns.  With  the 
growth  of  cities  and  city  planning,  the  rapid  improvement 
in  the  popular  arts,  including  architecture,  and  the  advanc- 
ing brilliance  of  civilized  life  the  church  must  keep  pace. 

Beauty  is  one  of  the  essential  necessities  of  human  exist- 
ence. It  is  a  strange  fact  that  so  few  of  those  who  are  critical 
of  the  church  from  without  or  anxious  within  have  taken 
notice  of  this  lack.  For  several  years  now,  both  the  religious 
and  secular  press  have  been  exercised  over  the  church.  Many 
have  attacked  the  theology  or  the  ethics  of  the  church,  few 
have  openly  criticised  its  meager  worship.  Many  experiments 
have  been  proposed  and  many  tried,  few  have  touched  upon 
the  untold  assets  of  the  world  of  the  arts  for  the  cultivation 
of  that  spiritual  life  which  is  the  prime  function  of  the 
church. 

The  art  of  worship  is  the  all-comprehending  art.  No  other 
art  can  satisfy  the  demand  of  human  nature  for  an  all-inclu- 
sive experience.  Nor  can  the  conditions  favorable  to  that 
experience  be  ever  freshly  reproduced  without  the  aid  of  all 
the  arts. 

The  suggestions  which  are  hereinafter  set  forth  might  pos- 
sibly have  better  been  arranged  for  three  books,  except  that 
at  this  time  it  is  desirable  to  feel  the  close  relationships 
involved.  If  architects  are  to  build  successful  church  build- 
ings, they  must  know  more  about  the  requirements  of  the 
worship  to  be  conducted  in  those  buildings.  If  the  artist  in 
worship  is  to  be  successful,  he  must  know  how  to  set  forth 
his  message  architecturally  as  well  as  liturgically.  If  worship 
is  to  be  considered  as  a  great  art,  there  needs  to  be  in  the 


Introduction 

mind  of  Protestantism  in  general  a  new  point  of  view  re- 
specting both  the  history  and  the  possibilities  of  religious 
culture.  The  material  to  follow,  therefore,  covers  these  three 
things:  first,  historical,  psychological,  or  polemical  matters; 
second,  liturgies;  third,  architecture. 

The  first  group  of  chapters  attempts  to  make  some  contri- 
bution to  the  polemics  of  the  day  respecting  the  church  in 
the  new  age.  The  attempt  is  bom  of  a  deep  sense  of  need 
for  a  new  popular  psychology  about  the  essential  religious 
values.  We  need  to  reexamine  the  practical  categories  of 
organized  religion.  We  need  to  enquire  whether  the  ecclesias- 
tical institution  should  not  function  primarily,  not  for  the 
sake  of  theology,  nor  merely  as  a  moral  program,  but  to 
foster  the  religious  experience. 

This  group  opens  with  a  discussion  of  the  connection  of 
art  with  the  time  spirit  or  national  spirit  of  any  people. 
Next,  the  historical  and  psychological  connections  and  dis- 
connections of  religion  and  art,  and  their  mutual  need  are 
set  forth.  This  is  followed  by  chapters  indicating  the  normal 
connection  of  art  with  the  priestly  and  cultural  side  of  reli- 
gion rather  than  its  prophetic  and  moral  side.  The  close  of 
the  division  shows  the  connection  of  art  with  current  church 
movements. 

The  necessity  for  technique  in  worship  opens  the  brief 
liturgical  discussion.  In  this  area  of  liturgies  there  are  only 
two  important  suggestions  to  be  presented.  After  an  exami- 
nation of  the  nature  of  the  inner  experience  of  worship  in 
the  chapter  "Isaiah's  Mysticism,"  the  findings  are  in  the 
next  chapter  applied  to  the  problems  of  the  order  of  worship. 
There  is  stated  definitely  what  I  believe  to  be  the  only  sound 
principle  of  liturgical  construction.  The  other  suggestion  in 
this  department  is  a  detailed  proposal  for  improving  the 
opening  part  of  the  ordinary  church  service  by  the  revived 
usage  of  the  Introit. 

These  brief  chapters  constitute,  of  course,  a  very  incom- 
plete discussion  of  the  subject.  Other  books  are  needed, 
which  will  present  more  comprehensive  reports  and  propo- 
sals concerning  modern  liturgies.  These  will  be  forthcoming 
as  improved  experimentation  proceeds.  The  definite  sugges- 

•5- 


Art  &  Religion  ^ 

tions  of  these  chapters,  however,  are  sufficient  to  specify  . 

something  of  the  nature  of  the  task  involved  in  the  better  i 
development  of  the  religious  cultus. 

Respecting  architecture,  it  has  seemed  advisable  to  begin  ; 
with  an  extremely  short  survey  of  the  historic  styles,  familiar 
as  the  history  of  architecture  may  be  to  many  persons.  Only 

so,  however,  is  it  possible  clearly  to  present  even  a  brief  | 

analysis  of  the  meaning  of  style  and  of  the  special  intima-  j 

tions  of  particular  historic  modes.  There  is  just  now  a  great  | 

deal  of  unintelligent  style  revival,  and  also  much  groping  | 

after  new  stylistic  invention.  The  chapter  discusses  this  , 

situation.  Other  chapters  relate  to  practical  phases  of  church  ; 
building;  the  modern  religious  ideas  which  need  to  be  sym- 
bolized in  the  modern  church;  and  the  handling  of  physical 
materials  to  the  end  of  producing  the  desired  atmosphere  or 
structural  tone  in  the  building.  The  facts  presented  in  the 

chapter  on  the  chancel,  together  with  their  illustration,  are  i 

largely   unknown   either   to   the   church   world   or   to   the  j 

architectural  world.  ! 

These  suggestions  are  written  for  the  attention  of  archi- 
tects as  well  as  for  church  building  committees  and  for  " 
people  who  wish  to  enrich  their  powers  of  appreciation.  If  | 
I  did  not  know  the  facts  to  the  contrary,  I  should  be  inclined  ; 
to  credit  the  architectural  profession  with  competency  in  i 
these  matters.  There  are  brilliant  leaders  who  have  thought 
deeply    upon    the    intellectual    issues    involved    in    church 
building,  and  whose  canons  of  art  are  of  the  highest  order. 
This  exceptional  ability,  however,  has  not  yet  succeeded  ! 
in  forestalling  the  construction  of  many  hopelessly  ugly 
churches.  It  is  hoped,  also,   that  the  chapters  may  be  of  ' 
practical  assistance  to  the  competent  architect  in  his  efforts  j 
to  persuade  building  committees  to  the  acceptance  of  more  ! 
excellent  forms. 

The  book  is  not  a  defence  of  beauty  or  of  art;  they  will  , 

take  care  of  themselves.  It  is  not  so  certain  that  the  art  of  i 

worship  will  take  care  of  itself.  The  art  of  worship  is  the  , 

combination  of  all  the  arts ;  the  experience  of  worship  is  the  > 

consummation  of  all  experience,  whether  of  beauty  or  of  i 

goodness  or  of  truth.  The  book  is  an  effort  to  assist  the  reli-  ; 

•  6.  ; 


Introduction 

gious  world  to  a  recognition  of  the  category  of  beauty  as  a 
primary  and  necessary  element  in  the  religious  reconstruction 
of  the  new  age. 

I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  talking  high  talk  to  use  the  term 
"new  age,"  and  that  the  term  is  being  used  by  many,  inde- 
finably and  loosely.  But  in  the  thought  of  many  other  stu- 
dents of  history,  the  issues  of  the  day  in  all  departments  of 
life  are  of  such  a  character  as  to  warrant  the  use  of  the  words, 
with  a  definite  meaning.  Although  I  do  not  agree  with  the 
historical  interpretations  or  the  philosophic  assumptions  of 
Mr.  Ralph  Adams  Cram,  his  insistence  at  this  point  is  illumi- 
nating. "History  is  a  series  of  resurrections,  for  the  rhythm 
of  change  is  invariable.  Each  epoch  of  five  hundred  years 
follows  the  same  monotonous  course,  though  made  dis- 
tinctive by  new  variations.  .  .  .  We  are  today  in  the  midst 
of  just  such  a  grinding  collapse  as  that  which  overtook  Rome 
and  the  empire  of  Charlemagne  and  the  Christian  Common- 
wealths of  the  Middle  Ages.  .  .  .  Before  the  year  2000, 
now  but  two  generations  away,  modern  civilization  will 
have  passed  and  a  new  era  have  taken  its  place."* 

Before  the  war,  the  late  Professor  Charles  R.  Henderson 
wrote :  "We  are  now  in  the  midst  of  a  transformation  more 
significant  than  the  downfall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  rise 
of  modern  nationalities,  or  the  Reformation."  In  a  lecture 
on  architecture,  Mr.  Claude  Bragdon  used  this  phrase: 
"During  the  post-Renaissance  or  the  Scientific  period,  of 
which  the  war  probably  marks  the  close. "f  Mr.  Alfred  H. 
Lloyd  in  his  paragraphs  on  "The  Glory  of  Democracy" 
expresses  the  same  view.  "A  time  of  epochal  transition! 
Truly  we  are  nearing  something  new  in  life.  A  time  of  crea- 
tive living  must  be  at  hand." 

The  most  recent  definition  of  the  nature  of  present-day 
change,  in  the  light  of  the  historic  sweep  of  human  feelings, 
is  that  of  Professor  Albert  Parker  Fitch.  "We  are  witnessing 
in  fact  the  final  emancipation,  or  if  you  please,  defection,  of 
society  from  the  enchantment  of  the  Middle  Ages.  ...  If 
the  political,  ethical,  economic  and  aesthetic  interests  of  man 

*  Cram,  "Gold,  Frankincense  and  Myrrh,"  pp.  2  and  3. 
i  Architectural  Record,  September,  1918. 

•7- 


Art  &  Religion 

are  changing,  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  his  religious  world  is 
being  transformed  too."* 

These  and  other  writers  have  each  a  somewhat  differing 
interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  the  times.  They  all  agree 
in  expressing  the  long  historic  power  of  the  Reformation 
forces,  the  unsatisfactory  character  of  their  practical  out- 
come, and  the  necessity  for  new  integrations  of  life  so  far- 
reaching  in  character  as  to  constitute  a  similarly  forceful 
historic  movement. 

I  am  not  presuming  to  estimate  all  the  factors  material 
to  the  new  construction  of  life,  but  only  one  of  them.  In  the 
new  age,  religion  will  have  new  things  to  say  and  a  new 
burden  of  utterance  seeking  to  say  them.  It  will  be  keyed  to 
the  discovery  of  new  forms  for  telling  its  word  to  people.  If 
it  does  not,  it  will  not  reach  people.  In  the  world  of  the  arts 
it  will  find  the  means  for  its  new  creative  and  re-creative  life. 
In  the  experience  of  worship  it  will  center  the  joys  of  its  new 
faiths  in  human  nature  and  its  new  hopes  of  divine  life.  In 
the  better  development  of  the  art  of  worship  it  will  fulfil  its 
function  of  lifting  life  out  of  its  ugly  materialism  onward 
and  upward  toward  the  truth  and  the  goodness  and  the 
beauty  that  is  to  be. 

*  Fitch,  "Can  the  Church  Survive  in  the  Changing  Order*?"  pp.  26  and  43. 


8. 


Chapter  II :  An  Age  Described  by  Its  Art 

WE  are  just  now  so  accustomed  to  looking  at 
everything  from  the  point  of  view  of  peoples, 
tribes,  and  nations  that  it  is  natural  to  begin 
our  notice  of  the  arts  from  the  same  point  of  view.  Peoples 
are  known  by  their  art,  the  English  by  Shakespeare  and  the 
Prayer  Book,  the  Greeks  by  the  Parthenon,  the  American 
Negro  by  his  folk  melodies.  So  also  we  know  an  age  by  its 
art,  the  mediaeval  time  by  the  great  Gothic  buildings,  the 
artificialities  of  early  eighteenth  century  life  by  English 
poems  and  French  palaces,  the  Classic  revival  by  the  Renais- 
sance buildings  of  Italy  and  all  Europe;  and  all  the  greater 
and  lesser  movements  of  human  feeling  by  their  records  in 
stone  or  letters  or  music. 

The  arts  constitute  the  description  of  the  world  as  an  age 
or  a  people  apprehends  it.  The  spiritual  life  of  a  time  is 
depicted  with  unescapable  exactness  in  its  artistry.  A  spirit- 
ual movement  that  does  not  find  expression  in  the  arts  can- 
not attain  self-consciousness  or  dominance  or  survival.  An 
age  or  a  people  that  does  not  reach  any  self-realization  or 
any  unity  of  thought  or  feeling  that  breaks  forth  into  artis- 
tic expression  is  nondescript. 

Three  little  objects  in  my  study  signify  what  I  mean.  One 
is  a  katchina  of  the  Hopi  Indians  of  Arizona,  a  small  grass 
mat  with  the  woven  figure  of  an  air  spirit  arrayed  in  head- 
dress and  apron.  One  is  a  little  brass  tray  with  the  beautiful 
geometric  pattern  of  stars  in  parallel  lines  so  typical  of 
Saracenic  art.  The  third  is  a  little  Catholic  image  of  Santa 
Barbara  from  Brittany.  You  could  take  up  one  of  these  little 
objects  and  describe  almost  offhand  the  main  characteristics 
of  the  life  from  which  it  came,  as  a  scientist  reconstructs 
some  old  dinosaur  from  one  of  the  fossil  bones.  You  could 
conjure,  for  instance,  the  whole  structure  of  fatalism  in 
philosophy,  despotism  in  government,  the  abstract  decora- 

•9- 


Art  &  Religion 

tion,  the  polygamy,  and  everything  else  from  beggar  to 
caliph  that  belonged  in  the  same  world  with  the  little  piece 
of  brass :  and  also  the  faiths,  feelings,  institutions,  and  cus- 
toms that  belong  with  the  descriptions  of  the  universe  of 
which  the  others  are  symbols.  Trifling  as  the  little  objects 
are,  no  such  thing  is  ever  produced  in  any  nondescript  com- 
monwealth. Each  has  been  cast  up  from  a  sea  of  human  life, 
wide  and  deep,  of  which  it  is,  so  to  speak,  only  a  fleck  of 
foam  left  to  remind  us  of  the  tossing  waters  of  many  souls. 
Sorry  indeed  is  that  citizenship  and  weak  of  mind  the 
generation  which  cannot  leave  behind  even  so  slight  a  mark 
or  sign  to  testify  its  struggle  for  faith  or  describe  its  hope. 

Or  we  may  come  at  the  idea  by  another  more  familiar 
route.  One  of  the  most  early  and  simple  of  the  promptings 
which  lead  people  to  travel  to  foreign  parts  is  an  interest  in 
the  picturesque.  Partly  childish,  the  interest  is  also  pro- 
found. It  is  the  pleasure  of  discovering  communities  that  are 
descript  rather  than  nondescript — Oberammergau,  Bangkok, 
Oxford,  Kioto,  or  any  other  place  where  there  has  been  some 
sustained  attempt  to  describe  all  things  and  set  forth  the 
common  view  in  laws,  customs,  and  all  the  arts  of  life  from 
house  building  to  worship.  One  does  not  like  to  see  among 
the  maidens  at  a  well  in  the  old  land  of  Ephraim  that  some 
carry  water  in  the  tall  earthern  jars  of  ancient  mould  and 
some  in  the  huge  tins  of  an  American  oil  company.  It  spoils 
the  picture.  The  charm,  the  unity,  the  satisfaction  are  gone. 
One  does  not  wish  to  go  abroad  unless  he  may  return  and 
say :  This  is  the  way  the  Romans  do ;  thus  and  so  it  is  among 
the  Fijis.  And  some  people  when  they  find  such  a  place  of 
unity  and  charm  do  not  come  again  home  to  their  own 
nondescript  life  and  town. 

Art  is  not  something  detached  from  life:  it  makes  life 
and  is  made  by  it.  It  appears  in  every  age  and  represents  to 
us  the  life  of  which  it  is  a  part.  "The  artist  or  the  philoso- 
phizer  who  maintains  that  art  is  purely  a  temperamental  ex- 
pression unrelated  to  the  solid  facts  of  life,  ...  is  cherishing 
a  fatal  illusion."*  If  that  life  is  disjointed,  the  arts  will  be 
sporadic  and  weak.  If  there  be  no  real  structure  of  ideas  and 

*  Pond,  "The  Meaning  of  Architecture,"  p.  105. 

•  10- 


An  Age  Described  by  Its  Art 

customs,  no  faiths  that  dominate  and  unify,  no  society  that 
is  describable,  how  shall  it  be  described  to  its  own  or  any 
other  mind'?  If  the  life  of  a  people  or  a  time  does  not  present 
any  strong  lines  or  clear  characteristics,  how  shall  it  be  repre- 
sented"? In  fitful  fragments  surely. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  any  society  has  ever  become  so 
unified  that  its  leading  feelings  have  dominated  all.  Rebels, 
prophets,  protestants,  are  in  every  time  and  place,  but  if 
they  are  in  the  majority,  the  community  is  nondescript  and 
the  voices  of  the  arts  are  mute,  for  they  have  no  great  thing 
to  say. 

A  seeming  contrary  opinion  has  been  expressed.  "Art  must 
be  democratic  and  win  its  own  clientele  of  free  admirers; 
it  must  never  again  be  a  mere  outgrowth  of  an  authorita- 
tively united  community  spirit.  It  must  serve  as  one  of  the 
main  paths  to  the  future  and  the  unborn."*  The  word 
"authoritatively"  is  unfortunate.  Modern  men  do  not  desire 
an  art  that  is  the  outgrowth  of  any  formal  mandate;  but 
they  do  desire  the  kind  of  united  community  spirit  which 
both  produces  great  art  and  is  produced  by  it.  "All  great 
periods  of  art  have  been  but  the  expression  of  their  time. 
Art  has  come  after  the  event,  not  its  avatar,  but  its  fulfiller, 
not  its  prophet,  but  its  message. "f 

We  shall  wish  later  to  notice  the  value  of  the  artist  as 
prophet  of  change,  with  a  free  and  individual  word;  but 
also  his  word  is  born  of  the  spirit  of  his  people  and  time. 
There  is  a  timeless  and  universal  appeal  in  the  greatest  arts, 
yet  Dante  was  a  Florentine,  and  the  destroyed  sculptured 
figures  of  Rheims  could  not  have  been  carved  in  the  age  of 
Pericles.  So  also  do  the  little  arts  follow  the  time  or  society 
spirit.  The  dainty  chairs  of  the  salons  of  Versailles  were  not 
fashioned  in  Salem,  Massachusetts. 

The  noblest  art  does  not  expend  itself  in  trifles;  it  at- 
tempts to  speak  something  concerning  all  things,  to  utter 
some  intimation  of  the  total  human  faith  about  God  and 
man  as  it  is  most  lately  and  highly  conceived.  The  most 
significant  and  wonderful  of  such  intimations  have  come, 

*  Hocking,  "Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking,"  note,  p.  318. 

t  Herbert  Adams,  "Address  before  American  Academy  of  Design." 

•  11  • 


Art  &  Religion 

not  as  lone,  exceptional  voices,  but  rather  as  a  sweeping 
wave  of  human  feeling  rising  to  a  crest  and  breaking  forth 
into  manifold  and  beautiful  expression.  This  social  char- 
acter of  the  arts  is  testified  both  by  critics  and  by  the 
facts.  "The  expression  of  an  ideal  is  possible  because  and 
when  and  only  when,  that  ideal  dominates  the  race."*  Not 
personal  dreams  but  the  hopes  of  a  nation  breathe  through 
the  Psalms:  the  genius  that  dotted  the  isles  of  Greece  with 
majestic  temples  was  a  racial  intelligence :  not  few  but  many 
builders,  driven  by  the  fusing  fires  of  a  powerful  time  spirit, 
hurried  up  the  walls  of  the  great  thirteenth  century  churches 
in  France  and  Flanders.  Even  respecting  the  works  of 
Michel  Angelo,  certainly  as  much  a  lone  and  individual 
artist  as  ever  lived,  it  is  said  that  "We  do  not  think  of  these 
great  creations  as  works  of  individual  genius  only,  but  as 
nourished  and  inspired  by  tides  of  contemporary  thought 
and  emotion.  Their  agitation  is  the  agitation  of  a  century."f 
It  is  suggested  of  another  great  Italian  artist,  Virgil,  not 
that  he  spoke  his  own  word  only,  but  that  he  was  the  "Latin 
that  should  voice  the  saddened  grandeur  of  the  Pagan 
heart. "|:  In  certain  times  and  places,  human  life  has  been 
possible  of  description.  Some  conjunction  of  racial  tempera- 
ment, stage  of  reflective  thought,  economic  stability,  and 
what  not  other  less  discoverable  factors,  has  produced  a 
unity  of  life.  The  artists  of  the  age  have  described  the 
essence  of  that  life. 

No  age  is,  of  course,  wholly  under  the  sway  of  its  domi- 
nant notes.  Usually  something  less  than  its  best  is  in  the 
ascendant:  often  rival  faiths  contend  for  the  mastery  of  a 
race :  or  a  strong  minority  long  sustains  its  illogical  footing : 
or  the  time  is  wholly  discordant  and  nondescript.  Our 
American  world  would  appear  to  be  not  much  better  off 
than  this  latter  case.  We  are  very  far  from  such  unity  of 
mind  and  manners  as  prevailed  in  the  Florence  of  Lorenzo, 
the  England  of  Elizabeth,  or  in  Moorish  Spain.  We  are  too 
large,  too  new,  and  too  composite  in  race  and  religion  to 
have  reached  a  describable  unity  in  life. 

*  Pond,  "The  Meaning  of  Architecture,"  p.  39. 

t  Phillipps,  "Art  and  Environment,"  p.  264. 

X  Taylor,  "The  Classical  Heritage  of  the  Middle  Ages." 

•  12- 


An  Age  Described  by  Its  Art 

Most  of  the  great  historic  commonwealths,  where  life  has 
become  refined,  customs  prevalent,  and  loyalty  so  long 
centered  as  at  last  to  be  celebrated  in  song  and  ritual  or 
symbolized  in  the  other  arts,  were  small  states — Judea, 
Athens,  Byzantium,  He  de  France,  Nippon.  In  these  little 
groups  of  human  beings,  their  solution  of  the  great  mysteries 
became  so  ordered  and  so  intense  as  at  last  to  form  itself 
into  the  imperishable  crystalline  deposit  of  their  arts,  and 
thereby  we  know  them  and  revere  them.  Our  country  is  so 
large  as  to  postpone  whatever  unity  is  desirable.  In  the 
North  and  South,  in  mountain  land  and  plain  land,  the 
flavor  of  personality  and  temperament  varies  with  the  flavor 
of  the  speech  of  the  people.  The  ease  of  communication  and 
movement  helps  us  to  overcome  this  natural  difficulty — but 
much  more  help  shall  we  have  as  we  learn  to  utilize  every 
artistic  symbol  of  our  common  life,  for  the  arts  which  unity 
produces  turn  about  to  produce  more  unity. 

And  we  are  too  young  to  be  formed  to  a  common  mould. 
Young  communities  have  no  time  for  good  form.  Good  form 
is  taken  on  gradually,  always  the  mark  of  an  older  and  more 
settled  life.  But  it  is  a  great  blunder  to  underestimate  its 
power  or  disbelieve  in  the  certainty  of  its  appearance.  The 
usages  of  polite  as  contrasted  with  frontier  society  are  much 
the  same  the  world  over.  Pioneers  have  always  scoffed  at 
forms  and  their  grandchildren  have  rushed  upon  them  with 
avidity;  perhaps  the  earlier  generation  mistaking  crudity  for 
sincerity,  the  younger  equally  mistaking  manners  for  cul- 
ture. Later  generations  learn  the  economy  of  energy  realized 
in  relegating  to  forms  many  things  that  do  not  need  con- 
stantly to  be  freshly  decided,  and  the  easement  of  life's 
harshness  and  jar  by  the  dependable  respect  that  resides  in 
good  form.  There  is  no  older  society  that  does  not  value  good 
form  and  the  church  world  is  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

Racial  recollection  is  long,  racial  aversions  and  sym- 
pathies are  often  intense.  "Because  of  a  diversity  of  our 
origins  and  ideals  a  unification  of  our  society  must  be  a  long 
time — perhaps  centuries — in  coming."*  Although  there  are 
common  grounds  of  expectation  and  purpose  on  which  most 

*  Pond,  "The  Meaning  of  Architecture,"  p.  225. 

•13- 


Art  &  Religion 

of  the  races  mingling  here  stand  together, — and  this  is  our 
hope, — there  are  also  inherited  differences  in  the  sense  of 
values.  If  the  Scotchman  admits  that  he  is  bluff  but  honest, 
perhaps  a  Latin  will  make  reply  that  he  does  not  care  for 
honesty  so  much  as  he  cares  for  suavity.  This  is  a  sheer 
difference  in  the  estimate  of  human  goods;  and  with  a  thou- 
sand others  must  be  reconciled  in  some  larger  unity  of  com- 
mon idealism.  We  have  valued  the  moral  integrity  and 
industrial  energ}'  of  the  northern  races  as  the  foundation  of 
our  commonwealth.  Surely  there  are  also  some  virtues  and 
values  in  the  imaginative  gifts  of  the  southern  peoples  and 
in  their  deliberate  preference  for  some  other  enjoyments 
than  those  of  commercial  victory.  Some  of  the  forces  neces- 
sary to  the  interracial  development  lie  in  the  realm  of  the 
arts  we  are  discussing. 

The  religious  disunity  of  America  is  notorious.  It  is 
intolerable  as  a  permanent  condition.  No  useful  good  is 
longer  served  by  it.  It  has  ceased  to  function  as  a  guarantee 
of  liberty.  The  deepest  cleft  is  between  those  faiths  which 
are  authoritative  and  autocratic  and  those  which  are  meas- 
urably compatible  with  democratic  institutions.  A  "divine 
right"  kind  of  church  calls  for  a  "divine  right"  state.  Aristo- 
cratic religion  cannot  permanently  live  in  the  same  world 
with  democratic  government.  One  must  at  last  give  way  to 
the  dominating  unity  of  the  other. 

Less  dramatic,  but  probably,  therefore,  the  more  difficult 
is  the  Protestant  diversity.  Most  of  the  differences  have  been 
intellectual,  creedal.  On  the  upper  levels,  these  are  now  all 
cut  across  by  the  unity  of  modern  thought.  The  theological 
lectures  at  Union  in  New  York,  at  Congregational  Yale,  at 
Episcopal  Cambridge,  at  Methodist  Garrett  and  at  Baptist 
Chicago  are  all  in  the  same  intellectual  world.  On  the  lower 
levels,  the  old  separations  still  persist.  Some  leaders  look  for 
progress  toward  unity  by  ignoring  intellectual  differences 
and  seeking  the  fellowship  of  common  moral  effort.  This  is 
indeed  worth  while  and  partly  possible.  But  only  partly,  for 
some  of  the  creedal  differences  involve  such  opposite  moral 
ideals  as  entirely  to  block  practical  unity  until  the  intel- 
lectual breach  is  at  least  narrowed. 

.14. 


An  Age  Described  by  Its  Art 

Meanwhile  there  remain  deep  diversities  of  tempera- 
ment, varieties  of  religious  experience  in  the  realm  of  feel- 
ing. It  has  often  been  said  that  men  differ  widely  in  this 
region,  that  some  require  the  appeal  of  form  and  ritual,  some 
desire  a  minimum  of  feeling  and  a  maximum  of  thinking  in 
their  religion,  as  others  enjoy  the  warmer  exercises  of  a  more 
primitive  emotionalism.  I  believe  that  such  a  view  is  a  false 
estimate  of  human  nature  and  suggested  largely  as  a  piece 
of  special  pleading  for  the  separate  maintenance  of  these 
types  of  religious  expression. 

The  truer  fact  is  that  we  have  all  of  us  something  of  all 
these  needs.  Most  people  prefer  what  they  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  in  these  things  and  could  likely  have  been  bred 
to  enjoy  far  other  usages  than  they  do.  The  differences  of 
breeding,  training,  or  circumstance  account  for  varied  prefer- 
ences in  artistry  much  more  commonly  than  do  differences 
in  original  temperament.  Simple  persons  of  little  education 
are  not  effectively  moved  by  appeal  that  is  largely  intel- 
lectual. They  require  the  stronger  feeling  values  of  direct 
emotionalism  or  of  ritual.  More  education  draws  away  from 
strong  emotion  of  any  sort  and  demands  satisfactions  of  the 
mind  chiefly.  Yet  more  culture  begins  to  revalue  lost  feeling 
and  to  seek  it  in  the  world  of  the  arts. 

Whoever  desires  to  foster  religious  unity  must  take  large 
account  of  the  essential  unity  of  human  nature  in  its  de- 
mand for  feeling.  It  is  possible  that  a  study  of  the  artistry  of 
religion,  a  study  of  the  pleasures  and  the  driving  power  of 
the  emotive  faculties,  an  analysis  of  the  kinds  of  formal 
technique  that  create  emotion,  will  be  quite  as  valuable  for 
the  cause  of  religious  unity  as  the  attempt  to  get  together 
theologically  or  morally. 

When  our  nation  is  older,  and  when  our  differences  of 
race  and  religion  are  less  numerous  and  less  sharp,  the  arts 
will  expand  to  the  proportionate  place  they  must  always 
occupy  in  the  spiritual  life  of  any  great  race  or  any  descript 
people.  We  shall  be  no  longer  nondescript,  but  everywhere 
there  will  be  evidence  of  the  ideals  which  dominate  our 
common  life.  Already  American  unity  has  been  remarkably 
strengthened  by  the  common  action  necessitated  in  the  war. 

.15. 


Art  ^  Religion 

But  the  unifying  equivalent  of  war  is  not  easy  to  find  in 
time  of  peace. 

And  the  unifying  effect  of  isolation  will  never  again  pre- 
vail in  human  life.  Swiftly  all  the  old  descript  common- 
wealths are  breaking  down  before  the  all-inclusive  world 
economy  in  which  we  are  beginning  to  live.  No  race  can 
again  form  so  separate  a  culture  and  artistry  as  that  of  Siam 
or  Japan.  The  world  is  one  as  never  before.  And  it  is  non- 
descript as  never  before.  Common  knowledge  everywhere 
modifies  peculiarities  and  diminishes  differences  in  race,  reli- 
gion, and  politics.  This  is  partly  the  cause  of  the  bewilder- 
ment among  artists.  They  do  not  know  what  to  say  or  how 
to  say  it  any  more  than  do  theologians  or  senators.  They  do 
not  live,  any  more  than  the  rest  of  us,  surrounded  by  definite 
and  definable  customs.  We  are  all  more  or  less  cosmopolitans 
and  come  dangerously  near  not  "belonging"  anywhere.  We 
are  rovers  and  strangers,  scarcely  having  a  true  spiritual 
homeland. 

All  these  things  are  admitted  and  they  constitute  new  and 
difficult  conditions  for  civilized  life.  Yet  to  recognize  them 
is  partly  to  master  them.  The  human  race  is  not  yet  ready 
to  merge  into  one  vast,  vague  composite.  Nor  are  states  and 
nations  about  to  disappear  in  some  universal  hegemony. 

Americans  believe  that  there  is  a  future  life  and  greatness 
for  their  commonwealth.  We  are  engaged  in  the  gigantic 
process  of  self-consciousness.  A  rich  and  noble  content  is 
already  suggested  by  the  term  Americanism.  That  content 
will  be  enlarged  and  specified  rapidly  or  slowly  according  as 
we  foster  our  own  best  ethics  and  according  as  we  seek  spir- 
itual greatness  to  match  our  material  success.  No  mere  con- 
quests of  the  foreign  markets  for  steel  will  make  us  a  descript 
people.  But  every  victory  over  prejudice  and  ignorance, 
every  success  in  our  labors  for  economic  justice,  every  newer 
and  later  solution  of  vexed  problems  in  brotherhood,  every 
restraint  and  lift  in  the  scale  of  pleasure  will  weave  itself 
into  the  pictured  scroll  which  to  ourselves  and  to  all  men 
describes  what  we  think  and  feel  and  purpose  about  life. 
With  the  gathering  unity  in  ethics  will  come  increased 
clarity  and  brilliance  in  the  arts.  And  the  richer  expression 

.16. 


An  Age  Described  by  Its  Art 

of  the  arts  will  in  turn  promote  and  establish  the  common 
will  until  America  in  the  new  age  may  become  a  civilization 
describable  and  described  as  never  a  life  was  described 
before. 


17 


Chapter  III :  The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art        , 

ART    and    religion    belong    together   by    identities    of 
/%      Origin,    Subject    Matter,    and    Inner    Experience.    ; 
j[_     m.   Religion  and  art  were  one  and  the  same  thing  be- 
fore either  of  them  became  consciously  regarded  as  a  dis-    ■ 
tinct  human  interest.  The  principal  subject  matter  of  the 
world's  artistic  treasures  is  religious.  The  experience  of  faith    : 
and  the  experience  of  beauty  are  in  some  measure  identical,    | 
In  these  three  ways  there  is  displayed  the  unity  of  religion   ; 
and  art.  I  am  not  here  interested  to  elaborate  them,  but  the    ! 
numbers  of  religious  leaders  who  have  no  interest  in  the  arts,    ; 
and  the  numbers  of  artists  who  have  no  participation  in  the  ,: 
life  of  definite  religion  need  all  to  be  made  aware  of  these   I 
facts. 

The  beginnings  of  religion  and  of  art  alike  lie  far  back  \ 
and  hidden  in  the  immemorial  life  of  primitive  man.  In  i 
the  earliest  historic  times  they  were  interwoven  and  no  one  ] 
can  say  which  was  first,  for  they  were  not  two,  but  one.  The  ; 
painted  stick  or  bunch  of  feathers  which  as  a  fetish  was  : 
utilized  for  its  magical  powers  was  also  in  some  sense  a  work 
of  art.  The  dances  and  pantomimes  of  early  tribal  life  were  I 
attempts  at  the  magical  control  of  nature  or  nature  divini- 
ties. Exercises  in  frenzy  were  both  religious  and  artistic,  ; 
primitive  forms  of  ritual,  primitive  forms  of  drama.  "This  j 
common  emotional  factor  it  is  that  makes  art  and  ritual  in  i 
their  beginnings  well-nigh  indistinguishable."* 

Religion  has  been  historically  the  great  fountain  source   j 
of  art,  and  the  art  of  worship  the  mother  of  all  arts.  "Ritual   ' 
and  art  have,  in  emotion  towards  life,  a  common  root,  and   ' 
primitive  art  develops  emotionally,  at  least  in  the  case  of 
drama,  straight  out  of  ritual. "f 

It  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose  to  accept  the  judgment  of 
anthropologists  that  in  one  way  or  another  most  of  the 

*  Jane  Harrison,  "Art  and  Ritual,"  p.  41. 
t  Ibid. 

.18. 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

arts — music,  dancing,  sculpture,  poetry,  drama,  architecture 
— were  developed  out  of  exercises  and  objects  originally  de- 
vised for  the  magical  control  of  divinities,  the  celebration  of 
seasonal  feasts  or  the  production  of  ecstasy  for  its  own  sake 
or  for  power  in  war — all  exercises  of  primitive  religion, 

"Art  will  then  never  arise  and  develop  among  men  un- 
less it  has  a  foundation  in  religion.  Art  absolutely  profane  [  [ 
in  origin,  art  born  to  satisfy  the  aesthetic  taste  of  the  specta- 
tor, art  which  seeks  for  expressiveness  rather  than  for  the 
material  utility  of  its  products,  even  if  this  be  a  spiritual 
utility,  is  inconceivable  in  human  history  and  has  abso- 
lutely never  existed."* 

This  is  perhaps  a  too  sweeping  claim,  but  something  very 
like  it  is  true.  An  adequate  discussion  of  it  would  involve  a 
long  study  not  enough  pertinent  to  our  present  work  to 
make.  It  is  difficult  for  us  with  our  reflective  and  analytical 
habits  of  mind  to  throw  back  our  imaginations  into  the 
early  time  when  life  was  just  life,  single  and  undivided, 
without  religion  or  art  or  any  other  category  as  such.  It  is 
not  impossible  that  such  a  unity  of  experience  is  a  goal 
ahead  of  us  as  well  as  a  forgotten  history  behind  us. 

The  second  consideration  in  noting  the  unity  of  religion 
and  art  is  the  fact  that  in  all  human  history  the  principal 
subject  matter  of  the  arts  has  been  religious.  "All  the  art 
of  the  human  race  is  essentially  religious  art;  from  the 
Chaldean  to  the  Egyptian,  from  the  Mycenaean  to  the 
Greek,  from  the  Assyrian  to  the  pre-Buddhistic  Chinese, 
from  the  Mexican  to  the  Peruvian,  there  is  no  exception." f 

The  three  things  which  most  attract  Americans  to  cross 
the  sea  in  search  of  the  riches  of  the  old  world  are  the  Greek 
temples  and  statues,  Italian  paintings,  and  Gothic  archi- 
tecture. With  a  very  few  exceptions  all  of  these  incom- 
parable treasures  were  created  by  religion.  The  histories  of 
the  older  oriental  empires  and  of  Egypt  display  the  same 
facts.  Literary  art  also,  considering  the  Greek  dramas, 
Dante,  and  Milton,  at  its  high  points  if  not  at  its  lower,  has 
been  chiefly  religious. 

*  Alessandro  Delia  Seta,  "Religion  and  Art,"  p.  35. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  34. 

.19. 


Art  &  Religion 

Even  the  secular  spirit  ushered  in  by  the  Renaissance  did 
not  take  away  the  dominating  religious  content  of  the  bril- 
liant works  of  that  movement.  The  revival  of  pagan  themes 
and  the  erection  of  exquisite  and  luxurious  palaces  in  the 
fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  did  not  rival  the  continued 
religious  character  of  the  painting,  sculpture,  and  church 
building  of  the  age. 

The  effects  of  the  movement,  however,  soon  became  char- 
acteristic, and  modern  art,  since  the  seventeenth  century 
painters,  especially  Flemish  and  Spanish,  and  since  Shake- 
speare, has  not  centered  its  attention  chiefly  upon  religious 
subjects.  Whether  this  has  anything  to  do  with  the  slighter 
and  less  impressive  character  of  modern  art  everyone  may 
decide  for  himself.  There  does  not  seem  to  have  appeared 
in  these  modern  times  any  movement  of  life  so  self-con- 
scious and  masterful  as  to  attain  brilliant  and  consistent 
expression  by  a  great  artistic  movement  comparable  with 
earlier  creations. 

I  am  not  saying  that  modern  art  is  irreligious,  or  that  any 
art  must  be  religious  in  subject  matter  to  be  religious  in 
spirit.  I  am  not  saying  that  this  modem  age  has  been  less 
worthy  than  previous  centuries  which  were  more  unified. 
We. are  attempting  something  wider  and  harder.  But  before 
this  time,  the  principal  artistic  creations  of  the  world  were 
closely  connected  with  religion. 

Even  now  the  perennial  artistic  creativity  of  religion  is 
again  beginning  to  burst  into  manifold  expression.  The  best 
directly  church  art  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  in  the 
medium  of  stained  glass.  The  free  churches,  for  the  most 
part  prejudiced  against  the  use  of  pictures  on  canvas  or 
on  the  walls,  were  quite  willing  to  enjoy  pictures  in  glass. 
Amongst  the  old  churches,  with  a  few  signal  exceptions, 
both  decorative  works  on  a  large  scale  and  handicrafts  in 
small  scale  were  generally  either  crude,  bizarre,  thin,  or 
merely  rich. 

But  the  twentieth  century  has  already  developed  many 
notable  works  born  of  the  revived  passion  for  beauty  in 
the  church.  Such  achievements  as  the  murals  in  the  apse 
of  St.  Agnes'  Church,  Cleveland,  the  lofty  reredos  in  St. 

•  20- 


Bertram  Grosvenor  Goodhue,  Architect. 


PULPIT  •  FIRST  BAPTIST  CHURCH  •  PITTSBURGH  •  PENNSYLVANIA 

The  statuettes  in  the  sides  of  the  octagon  are  figures  of  St. 

Augustine,  St.  Bernard,  Luther,  Roger  Williams,  Count 

Zinzendorf,  and  Adoniram  Judson. 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

Thomas's  Church,  New  York,  and  the  new  pulpit  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church,  Pittsburgh,  are  evidence  that  religion 
cannot  long  be  hindered  from  its  natural  flowering  in  the 
arts. 

In  another  chapter  I  hope  we  may  see  that  the  artists  of 
the  race  long  ago  began  to  say  in  form  and  color  things 
which  did  not  agree  with  the  subject  matter  they  were 
setting  forth.  Here  we  note  simply  the  main  fact,  that 
historically  the  principal  themes  of  the  arts  have  been  reli- 
gious. The  arts  have  grown  out  of  religion  or  have  been 
produced  for  the  service  of  religion. 

The  unity  of  religion  and  art  is  more  profoundly  dis- 
covered in  our  own  consciousness.  It  is  the  unity  of  expe- 
rience itself.  Religion  is  more  than  art  and  may  seem  to  get 
on  entirely  without  it,  yet  religionists  are  always  saying 
some  of  the  same  things  that  artists  say  and  artists  are 
always  testifying  some  of  the  same  feelings  as  are  religious 
devotees.  To  perceive  beauty  is  to  be  moved  by  something 
of  the  same  emotional  course  as  attends  on  the  perception  of 
Divinity.  And  to  create  beauty  is  in  some  sense  to  partici- 
pate in  the  character  of  Divinity. 

Beauty  is  one  of  the  three  supreme  categories  of  value. 
It  follows  that  religion  is  directly  concerned  with  beauty, 
for  religion  is  the  experience  of  the  highest  value.  The 
three  values  are  constantly  interwoven  in  human  expe- 
rience. The  true  and  the  good  are  beautiful.  The  beautiful, 
most  highly  speaking,  is  both  true  and  good.  That  which  is 
false  is  not  beautiful;  it  is  an  ugly  lie.  That  which  is  bad 
is  not  beautiful;  it  comes  of  an  ugly  temper.  Whether  you 
are  aware  of  it  or  not,  there  is  a  pleasure  in  the  truth  and  a 
satisfaction  in  the  contemplation  of  the  good  which  are  in 
some  measure  aesthetic  feelings. 

Without  presuming  to  set  forth  a  theory  of  aesthetics, 
I  want  here  simply  to  suggest  that  the  experience  of  beauty 
or  the  formation  of  beauty  into  the  world  of  the  arts  is  like 
the  experience  of  religion  in  its  essential  assumptions  or 
demands  in  the  realms  of  thinking,  feeling,  and  willing. 

Religion  is  more  than  thought,  and  its  experience  is 
larger  than  merely  logical  judgments  concerning  the  truth. 

•23- 


Art  <S*  Religion 

Yet  it  is  based  upon  a  definite  intellectual  faith  in  the  one- 
ness of  reality.  A  pluralistic  universe  is  no  very  satisfactory 
object  of  religious  faith.  There  are  no  longer  any  vital 
polytheistic  religions.  The  object  of  religious  faith  is  always 
the  one  true  God,  in  whose  ultimate  being  all  the  discords 
are  harmonized. 

Precisely  so,  no  particular  object  is  beautiful  that  is  not 
a  unity.  Definitely  discordant  lines  or  sounds  or  shapes  or 
colors  mar  the  harmony  of  any  composition  and  so  injure 
its  beauty,  whether  the  object  be  a  poem,  a  building,  a 
simple  melody  of  song,  a  landscape  painting,  or  the  land- 
scape itself.  It  needs  no  laboring  of  the  point  to  suggest 
that  the  first  demand  of  the  lover  of  beauty  is  the  demand 
for  unity  or  harmony.  If  there  be  discordant  elements,  as 
for  instance,  in  a  musical  work,  or  in  a  landscape,  there  is 
nevertheless  that  demand  that  these  be  harmonized  by  some 
more  inclusive  range  of  unity. 

There  is  no  logical  limit  to  this  demand  short  of  the 
universe  itself.  I  am  not  saying  that  all  artists  or  devotees 
of  the  arts  are  aware  of  this.  I  am  saying  that  logically  the 
aesthete  is  united  with  the  religionist  in  his  search  for  an 
ultimately  harmonized  world.  My  four-year-old  son  can 
fashion  accurately  with  colored  blocks  a  simple  composition 
copied  from  a  design.  He  understands  perfectly  when  a 
single  piece  is  out  of  place  with  reference  to  the  unity  of 
pattern  lines  and  colors  previously  selected.  A  higher  unity 
is  represented  in  a  Turner  landscape.  The  Overture  to 
Tannhauser  and  the  story  of  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde  de- 
pict a  theme  of  universal  range,  the  war  of  good  and  evil. 
Behind  the  bafiiing  questions  of  life  for  mortals  and  gods 
in  the  Greek  tragedies,  back  of  all  the  themes,  looms  the 
finality  of  Fate: 

"That  which  needs  must  be, 
Holdeth  the  high  gods 
As  it  holdeth  thee." 

The  history  of  all  the  arts  will  abundantly  testify  this 
outreach  toward  the  ultimate.  The  greatest  works  of  art 
are  those  which  have  attempted  to  speak  concerning  the 

.24. 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

nature  of  all  things,  those  which  have  intimated  higher  and 
higher  ranges  of  unity.  And  in  a  sense  all  genuine  art  de- 
picts the  nature  of  any  particular  thing  in  such  a  way  as  to 
imply  its  unity  with  all  things:  "Art  on  its  side,  tacitly 
protests  against  metaphysical  dualism.  It  does  so  because, 
being  the  most  immediate  form  of  knowledge,  it  is  in  con- 
tact with  activity,  not  with  passivity;  with  interiority,  not 
exteriority;  with  spirit,  not  with  matter,  and  never  with  a 
double  order  of  reality."* 

One  of  the  things  which  religion  adds  to  thought  is  feel- 
ing. Religion  is  always  more  than  definitions  of  the  mind; 
it  is  an  attitude  or  disposition  of  the  heart;  it  is  an  imme- 
diate experience  of  reality,  a  contemplation  of  the  Divine, 
a  communion.  It  is  a  feeling  of  dependence,  a  feeling  of 
peace  and  of  trust.  Religion  is  joy  and  exuberant  abun- 
dance of  life.  It  is  that  experience  beyond  thinking  and 
doing  which  engages  all  the  faculties  in  the  highest  spiritual 
adventure. 

The  experience  of  beauty  includes  all  these  things,  at 
least  in  kind.  It  is  a  feeling  of  repose  and  quietness.  It  is  a 
feeling  of  satisfaction,  an  experience  which  it  is  not  desired 
to  change,  being  good  in  itself.  The  artist  is  not  satisfied 
with  secondhand  descriptions  of  reality  set  forth  by  scien- 
tist and  philosopher;  he  would  have  immediate  experience 
of  the  truth.  He  does  not  present  his  view  of  life  m  propo- 
sitions or  in  theoretic  form,  but  rather  seeks  to  express  the 
feel  of  reality,  the  taste  of  existence,  the  texture  of  the 
world.  This  is  the  reason  why  many  great  works  of  art 
intimate  more  by  their  form  or  manner  of  treatment  than 
by  the  subject  matter,  and  why  many  supreme  artistic  crea- 
tions have  a  vaguely  definable  content  of  ideas,  as  for 
instance,  Shelley's  "Cloud"  and  Michel  Angelo's  figures 
in  the  Sacristy  of  San  Lorenzo. 

Nor  is  the  artist  satisfied  with  the  struggle  for  material 
goods  in  the  practical  world.  Although  he  deals  with  mate- 
rials, his  luxury  is  a  higher  one  than  that  of  elaborate  draw- 
ing rooms,  motor  cars,  or  the  conquest  of  trade.  The  good 
he  seeks  is  a  more  nearly  spiritual  good,  an  experience  of 

*  Benedetto  Croce,  "Aesthetic,"  p.  398. 

.25. 


Art  &  Religion 

contemplation  as  an  end  in  itself  for  which  the  labor  of 
the  practical  world  is  only  a  means. 

Now  these  are  precisely  the  points  of  view  which  the 
teacher  of  religion  also  is  constantly  seeking  to  induce.  He 
too  calls  people  from  their  pursuits  and  practical  ambitions 
to  enjoy  the  communions  of  the  spirit.  He  also  summons 
men  to  leave  off  for  a  moment  their  doing  that  they  may 
devote  themselves  to  seeing.  He  also  is  persuaded  of  the 
inadequacy  of  mere  thinking,  claiming  the  possibility  of  a 
more  nearly  immediate  experience  of  reality. 

If  this  is  anything  like  the  truth,  it  is  a  strange  thing 
that  the  professional  schools  for  priests  and  prophets  abun- 
dantly supply  instruction  that  is  intellectual  and  moral  while 
very  meagerly  offering  any  tutelage  of  the  imagination  or 
any  instruction  in  the  discipline  and  development  of  the 
emotional  career  or  in  the  technique  whereby  the  minister 
of  religion  may  become  a  proficient  master  in  these  areas. 
This  will  one  day  be  changed  so  that  every  trained  leader 
of  religion  will  be  more  aware  of  the  universal  hunger  for 
beauty  and  more  capable  of  utilizing  this  almost  unlimited 
asset  for  the  religious  ends  of  his  task. 

We  are  accustomed  to  thinking  that  the  world  of  religion 
is  willing  to  recognize  this  kinship  with  the  world  of  the 
arts  more  readily  than  is  the  critic  of  the  arts.  The  con- 
trary is  true.  One  is  more  likely  to  find  the  language  of 
religion  in  the  writings  of  the  art  world  than  to  discover 
an  equal  intelligence  amongst  religious  writers  concerning 
the  critique  of  the  arts.  When  Bernard  Bosanquet  says  that 
"the  mind  of  man  has  its  own  necessity,  which  weaves  its 
great  patterns  on  the  face  of  the  whole  world.  And  in  these 
patterns — the  pattern  of  life  itself — the  fullest  feeling  finds 
embodiment,"*  he  is  discussing  the  impulse  and  the  neces- 
sity of  the  artist  toward  the  same  experience  as  the  mystic. 

William  Temple  in  discussing  some  of  the  noblest  works 
of  art,  writes:  "In  the  presence  of  such  transcendent  Beauty, 
we  realize  the  hope  of  mysticism.  In  a  single  impression  we 
receive  what  absolutely  satisfies  us,  and  in  that  perfect  sat- 
isfaction  we   ourselves   are   lost.    Duration   vanishes;    the 

*  Bosanquet,  "Three  Lectures  on  Aesthetic,"  p.  58. 

.26. 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

'moment  eternal'  is  come.  The  great  drama  proceeds;  the 
music  surges  through  us;  we  are  not  conscious  of  our  own 
existence.  We  hear  and  see;  and  when  all  is  done,  we  con- 
sider and  bow  the  head."*  He  is  writing  as  an  art  critic  but 
in  the  language  of  religion.  Again  in  discussing  one  of  the 
lectures  of  Mr.  Arthur  Balfour,  he  writes:  "The  past  and 
the  future  vanish;  space  itself  is  forgotten:  whether  or  not 
mysticism  is,  as  Mr.  Balfour  fears,  the  only  possible  phi- 
losophy of  art,  it  is  beyond  question  that  the  aesthetic 
experience  is  a  purely  mystical  experience;  that  is  to  say,  it 
is  the  direct  and  immediate  apprehension  of  an  absolutely 
satisfying  object. "f 

I  have  somewhere  read  in  a  writing  of  Archdeacon  Free- 
mantle,  the  following:  "Art  becomes  a  binding  link  be- 
tween men  and  draws  them  together  toward  God.  It  forms 
a  society  which  must  properly  be  called  a  Church.  Its  yearn- 
ing toward  the  ideal  is  worship,  a  prayer.  The  sharing  in 
artistic  impressions  is  a  genuine  form  of  worship.  It  is 
destined  to  occupy  no  mean  place  in  the  full  redemption  of 
human  life." 

The  religious  feelings  relate  to  life  as  a  whole.  They  are 
the  response  of  man  to  the  presently  realized  existence  of 
divinity.  They  reach  out  to  grasp  the  Universal  and  the 
Absolute.  The  feeling  for  beauty  is  usually  not  universal. 
But  it  is  a  feeling  for  being,  for  that  which  has  existence. 
Every  work  of  art  says.  Notice  this  fact,  this  bit  of  life :  be 
a  lover  of  life  as  you  see  it  here.  Religion  says.  Be  a  lover 
of  Life  as  a  Whole,  God's  Life,  love  God.  There  is  a  pro- 
found identity  of  attitude  between  these  two. 

Religion  is  not  merely  thinking  and  feeling,  it  is  also 
right  doing.  The  moral  issues  of  religion  are  ever  the  con- 
cern of  healthy  human  life.  We  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  a  religion  which  is  ineffective  in  the  practical  world 
or  weak  in  its  increasing  enthusiasm  for  a  thoroughgoing 
application  of  its  ideals  to  every  phase  of  life,  industrial 
and  political  as  well  as  personal.  These  are  the  vast  prob- 
lems of  the  hour.  We  shall  have  no  future  religion  at  all  if 
they  are  not  manfully  and  courageously  handled. 

*  Temple,  "Mens  Creatrix,"  p.  125.  -f  Ibid.,  p.  128. 

.27. 


Art  &  Religion 

It  is  too  commonly  assumed  that  at  this  point  the  arts 
must  part  company  with  religion.  Many  have  felt  that  to 
be  interested  in  Beauty  while  the  world  is  suffering  from 
inhumanity  is  an  ignoble  thing.  Unfortunately,  both  the 
conduct  of  artists  in  general  and  many  critics  of  the  arts 
have  tended  to  foster  such  a  view.  Mr.  Merton  Stark  Yew- 
dale  sets  forth  a  correct  note  on  the  expressive  desire  of  the 
aesthetic  experience  and  then  completely  spoils  the  picture 
by  separating  that  experience  from  practical  life.  "We  have 
a  sensation  of  an  enhanced  power,  a  compelling  desire  to 
rid  ourselves  of  a  certain  state  of  tension,  .  .  .  eagerness 
to  reciprocate  the  force  which  the  artist  exerts  toward  us."* 
So  far  so  good.  Then  something  extremely  bad:  "As  our 
faculties  are  again  assembled  we  see  once  more  that  life  is 
the  great  delusion  and  Art  the  supreme  counter-agent  to 
existence. "f 

How  could  anyone  write  that  who  had  ever  read  Emer- 
son's "Compensation"'?  There  are  in  fact  no  real  barriers 
between  the  world  of  Art  Life  and  the  world  of  Common 
Life.  The  artist  marks  off  a  bit  of  the  world  and  harmonizes 
it  and  sees  that  it  is  good  or  beautiful.  Religion  rises  to  see 
that  all  creation  is  good.  It  will  admit  no  barriers.  It  would 
glorify  all  life. 

The  very  nature  of  artistry  is  activity.  Works  of  art  are 
described  as  creations.  Whatever  may  be  said  about  the 
appreciation  of  Beauty,  art  is  the  production  of  Beauty. 
Artistry  is  expression,  release,  liberation,  outgoing  effort, 
authorship,  origination.  Its  results  are  not  called  thoughts 
of  art  or  feelings  of  art  but  works  of  art. 

And  the  artist  not  only  creates  new  forms  of  material 
beauty  but  also  new  persons.  The  very  essence  of  the  thing 
that  happens  to  people  when  they  are  impressed  by  beauty, 
either  of  nature  or  of  art,  is  increased  vitality.  They  are 
literally  remade,  increased  in  strength  of  body  and  strength 
of  mind. 

Still  a  third  practical  effect  of  the  artist's  work  is  the 
result  in  the  world  of  the  enhanced  power  developed  in  the 

*  The  Aesthetic  World,"  International  Studio,  November,  1918. 
t  Ibid. 

.28. 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

aesthetic  experience.  This  is  the  point  least  clearly  inti- 
mated by  writers  on  the  subject,  and  denied  by  many.  It 
is  the  point  of  disagreement  with  Mr.  Yewdale.  Even 
Professor  Hocking  in  his  profound  discussion  of  art  and 
religion  in  the  volume,  "Human  Nature  and  Its  Remak- 
ing," does  not  sufficiently  get  away  from  his  suggestion  that 
the  world  of  art  is  an  arena  in  which  man  may  make  his 
conquests  more  easily  than  in  the  world  of  fact.  "Art  is  the 
region  which  man  has  created  for  himself,  wherein  he  can 
find  scope  for  unexpressed  powers,  and  yet  win  an  absolute 
success,  in  testimony  of  his  own  reality.  ...  It  has  but 
feeble  contact  with  the  more  pressing  problems  of  the 
'common  man.'  It  fits  no  one  for  dealing  with  the  as  yet 
unharmonized  aspects  of  experience.  Its  tendency  would  be 
to  seclude  itself,  build  for  itself  high  garden  walls,  and  in 
the  midst  of  a  world  small  enough  to  be  perfectly  con- 
trolled, forget  the  ugly,  the  squalid,  the  disprdered,  the  just 
causes  for  warfare  and  rebellion."* 

There  are  undoubtedly  many  facts  which  bear  out  this 
view.  And  with  the  facts  coincides  the  oft-repeated  descrip- 
tion of  the  experience  of  beauty  as  being  a  feeling  of  power 
coupled  with  the  paradoxical  feeling  of  repose,  a  sense  of 
great  energy  but  of  no  demand  to  exercise  it.  The  aesthetic 
moment  is  by  everyone  described  as  the  moment  of  perfect 
satisfaction. 

But  I  believe  it  to  be  only  a  moment.  Something  else 
follows  and  that  very  quickly.  We  are  not  long  enthralled 
by  the  satisfaction  of  any  work  of  art;  soon  we  recall  life 
as  we  know  it,  all  of  it,  and  the  recollection  breaks  the  spell 
and  demands  a  new  satisfaction  of  the  imagination.  I  have 
nowhere  seen  a  better  description  or  explanation  of  this 
paradox  of  repose  and  passion  than  that  of  Croce:  "The 
sensibility  or  passion  relates  to  the  rich  material  which  the 
artist  absorbs  into  his  psychic  organization ;  the  insensibility 
or  serenity  to  the  form  which  he  subjugates  and  dominates 
the  tumult  of  the  feelings  and  of  the  passions. "f  But  the 
moment  of  serenity  and  repose  is  followed  by  fresh  disturb- 

*  W.  E.  Hocking,  "Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking,"  pp.  291  and  326. 
t  Benedetto  Croce,  "Aesthetic,"  p.  35. 

.29. 


Art  &  Religion 

ance  at  the  remembrance  of  the  practical  world.  There  is  no 
logical  limit  to  the  natural  desire  of  the  artist  to  subjugate 
many  elements  into  a  comprising  harmony.  And  whoever 
perceives  and  enjoys  that  harmony,  strictly  speaking,  must 
at  last  step  outside  of  its  frame  and  seek  a  composition  that 
will  harmonize  all  things.  This  is  religion. 

A  definite  suggestion  of  this  logic  occurs  in  Mr.  Hock- 
ing's chapters:  "But  interest  in  beauty  reaches  the  central 
current  of  the  will,  and  when  this  interest  is  awakened  all 
transference  of  skill  and  discipline  becomes  natural.  It  is 
the  nature  of  beauty  to  overflow  departments  and  to  make 
the  man  of  one  piece.  .  .  .  The  real  artist  knows  that  to 
yield  to  the  aristocratic  impulse  in  the  aesthetic  conscious- 
ness is  to  cut  off  the  sources  of  his  own  art.  For  beauty,  let 
me  repeat,  is  reality  offering  a  glimpse  of  the  solution  of 
its  own  problems  of  evil."*  And  Miss  Harrison  says  that: 
"Art  is  of  real  value  to  life  in  a  perfectly  biological  sense; 
it  invigorates,  enhances,  promotes  actual  spiritual,  and 
through  it,  physical  life."  Mr.  Pond's  definition  of  art  turns 
upon  this  point  precisely:  "The  regulation  of  thought  and 
act  with  the  idea  of  making — not  getting — making  the  most 
of  life  is  called  art."f 

Another  suggestion  of  this  all-including  expressive  logic 
of  art  comes  from  C.  A.  Bennett,  although  at  first  seeming 
to  disagree.  He  says  that  "This  is  one  of  the  great  con- 
tributions of  art  to  life:  it  offers  a  rest  cure  to  the  weary 
moralist."  And  this  by  offering  a  refuge  from  the  real 
world  of  real  moral  struggle — "If  morality  offers  us  only  a 
vision  of  a  world  perpetually  in  the  making,  art  presents 
to  us  a  picture  of  a  world  in  some  sense  finished  and  com- 
plete. It  transforms  us  from  participators  in  the  struggle 
into  spectators  of  a  drama.  We  need  not  decide:  we  appre- 
ciate. The  power  and  beauty  of  the  whole  composition  give 
a  consciousness  of  unity  which  is  able  to  contain  the  moral 
distractions.  The  moral  nerve  is  not  stirred  to  life,  we  do  not 
feel  'that  something  must  be  done  about  it.'  "J 

*  Hocking,  "Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking,"  pp.  324  and  327. 
t  Pond,  "The  Meaning  of  Architecture,"  p.  224. 
j  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  January,  1920. 

.30. 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

Notice,  however,  that  Mr.  Bennett  does  not  confuse  the 
"spectator"  attitude  to  the  work  of  art  with  the  same  dis- 
position toward  life.  As  just  suggested  above,  it  is  my  view 
that  this  withdrawn  and  restful  experience  of  looking  upon 
beauty  does  not  last  long  before  the  recollection  of  life  tries 
to  get  inside  the  picture.  To  be  sure  there  is  nothing  de- 
manding to  be  done  by  what  is  inside  the  artist's  depiction, 
that  momentary^  world  being  complete  and  perfect.  But  so 
soon  as  the  rest  of  the  world  by  recollection,  begins  to  ob- 
trude itself,  then  immediately  there  is  everything  to  be  done 
above  it.  And  as  the  result  of  the  rest,  of  the  refreshment, 
and  literal  recreation  of  the  experience,  there  are  new 
powers  ready  for  the  task. 

And  this  pressure  of  the  world  as  a  whole  to  come  within 
the  frame,  Mr.  Bennett  intimates:  "Art,  we  say,  in  effect,  if 
not  in  intention,  redeems  the  world  from  ugliness.  The  goal 
of  artistic  endeavor  would  be  attained  when  it  had  been 
shown  that  nothing  was  outcast  from  the  world  of  beauty, 
when  a  rendering  of  life  had  been  given  in  which  ugliness 
was  included  and  transformed." 

I  do  not  claim  that  this  natural  tendency  to  translate 
the  energ}'  of  the  artistic  experience  into  definite  moral 
effects  in  the  practical  world  is  the  usual  issue  in  the  life  of 
the  average  man.  Ordinarily,  it  fails  unless  the  man  has  in 
other  connections  already  been  touched  by  a  religious 
motive,  and  instructed  in  the  moral  life.  This  purposive 
moment  is  the  point  where,  as  it  were.  Art  leaves  off  and 
Religion  begins.  I  do  believe,  none  the  less,  that  this  ex- 
pressive tendency  is  the  logic  of  the  experience  of  beauty 
even  by  itself.  The  average  man,  moved  by  the  power  of 
beauty  in  nature  or  art  possesses  no  artistic  technique,  no 
particular  skill  in  poetr}',  painting,  or  architecture.  His  clay 
is  the  plastic  stuff  of  his  own  character  and  his  materials  the 
fluctuating  affairs  of  the  workaday  world.  Probably  thou- 
sands of  men  have  not  only  been  moved  by  impressions  of 
beauty  henceforth  to  express  themselves  more  richly  in  com- 
mon life  but  have  had  definite  success  in  carrying  out  the 
impulse. 

Is  there  any  very  great  difference  between  the  expressive 

•31- 


Art  &  Religion  ] 

logic  of  the  Arts  and  the  expressive  demand  of  Religion?  i 

Religion  itself  does  not  always  succeed  in  getting  its  vital-  ' 

ity  coupled  up  with  the  moral  life.  Religion  and  art  are  I 

alike  in  the  impulse  to  recreate  the  world  after  the  heart's  ' 
desire. 

If  all  these  things  are  anything  like  true,  why  have  we  i 
been  so  slow  in  recognizing  it*?  Why  even  have  so  many 

thought  of  the  arts  as  subversive  of  religion*?  If  Religion  '> 

and  Art  are  so  much  kin  in  their  common  Assumption  of  ■ 

Unity  in  the  Universe,  in  their  Experience  of  Contempla-  ■ 

tion,  and  in  their  Mandate  to  Expression,  why  have  we  so  \ 

frequently  thought  of  artists  as  irreligious?  The  answer  is  , 

that  we  have  thought  wrong.  ' 

Modern  art  is  individualistic,  very  little  devoted  to  set-  j 

ting  forth  a  definitely  religious  content.   But  this   is  the  i 

nature  of  the  age  and  not  the  fault  of  the  artists.  This  is  ■ 

the  artist's  empirical  approach  to  reality  no  less  than  the  ' 

scientist's.  \ 

Artists   have   been   habitually   antinomian,    lawless.    So 
have  prophets,  breaking  down  old  moralities  that  newer  and 

better  might  be  formed.  Not  many  devotees  of  art  seem  to  i 

apprehend  the  full  course  of  their  own  typical  career.  This  I 

is  partly  due  to  much  bad  art.  Not  all  art  is  good  any  more  | 

than  average  popular  religion  is  the  best  religion.  The  better  ' 

the  art,  the  more  likely  it  is  to  result  in  a  completed  course  ^ 

of  experience.  ,; 

Artists  and  critics  of  art  often  stand  outside  the  definite  '] 
institutions  of  religion.  But  it  would  astonish  the  ignorant  | 
church  worker  to  be  made  aware  of  the  range  and  passion  | 
of  the  search  for  reality  and  of  right  attitudes  toward  it 
which  is  revealed  in  the  total  world  of  music,  letters,  paint- 
ing, building,  and  all  the  other  forms  through  which  the  : 
artists  of  the  world  are  attempting  to  set  forth  "their  ' 
scheme  of  the  weal  and  the  woe." 

I  am  not  sufficiently  a  philosopher  to  launch  a  discussion  j 

of  the  nature  of  the  limitations  of  art  as  compared  with  ! 

religion.  The  transcendence  of  religion  is  viewed  to  be  such,  j 
not  in  one  direction  merely,  but  in  several,  especially  in  rela- 
tion to  the  three  aspects  of  experience  so  briefly  presented 

•32- 


The  Unity  of  Religion  and  Art 

in  this  chapter.  I  can  suggest  only  a  hint  of  such  a  discussion 
by  another  sentence  or  two  from  Croce,  "Art  is  the  root  of 
all  our  theoretic  life.  To  be  the  root,  not  the  flower  or  fruit, 
is  the  function  of  art.  And  without  a  root,  there  can  be  no 
flower  and  no  fruit."*  Or  again,  to  much  the  same  intent: 
"If  art,  then,  be  the  first  and  most  ingenuous  form  of 
knowledge,  it  cannot  give  complete  satisfaction  to  man's 
need  to  know,  and  therefore  cannot  be  the  ultimate  end  of 
the  theoretic  spirit." 

Nevertheless,  Art  and  Religion  belong  together  by  cer- 
tain profound  identities  of  Origin,  Subject  Matter,  and 
Inner  Experience. 

*  Benedetto  Croce,  "Aesthetic,"  p.  386. 


33 


Chapter  IV :  The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

WE  cannot  live  without  truth,  goodness,  and 
beauty.  Not  everyone  cares  for  these,  but  they 
are  the  supreme  human  values.  Religion  can- 
not live  without  them.  Yet  there  is  a  world  of  Thought  out- 
side the  world  of  religion  which  repudiates  much  of  what 
organized  religion  claims  to  be  the  truth.  There  is  a  world 
of  Moral  Aspiration  outside  the  religious  world  which  is 
impatient  of  the  lagging  step  of  organized  religious  faith 
toward  better  conceptions  of  justice  and  brotherhood.  So 
also  there  is  a  world  of  Art  dissevered  from  the  institutions 
of  religion,  its  spiritual  hunger  unsatisfied  by  the  ugliness  of 
present-day  religious  forms.  Religion  cannot  complete  her 
reformation  until  she  has  squared  her  experience  not  only 
with  Scientist  and  Moralist  but  also  with  the  Artist. 

Since  the  mid-nineteenth  century  there  have  appeared 
innumerable  books  concerned  with  healing  the  breach  be- 
tween religion  and  science.  The  opening  of  the  twentieth 
century  saw  the  setting  of  a  full  tide  of  interest  in  making 
earnest  with  the  newer  moral  implications  of  religion.  The 
coming  generation  will  insist  upon  its  birthright  to  beauty. 
The  cleft  between  science  and  religion  is  an  old  story.  I 
recall  hearing  Governor  Baldwin  of  Connecticut  say  some 
years  ago  something  about  the  happy  completion  of  the  task 
of  transition  from  the  old  theology  to  the  new.  It  was  true 
for  the  noble  old  parish  of  which  he  was  a  member.  It  is  not 
true  of  the  larger  part  of  the  Christian  world.  The  "modern- 
ist" movement  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  been 
stamped  out  ruthlessly.  There  would  appear  to  be  glimmers 
of  light  here  and  there  in  the  Greek  Church.  The  Anglican 
communion  still  maintains  rigidly  a  view  of  the  sacraments 
and  of  ordination  which  is  a  sheer  logical  impossibility  to 
the  accepted  scientific  assumptions  of  modern  life.  In  the 
great  city  where  I  live  most  of  the  Protestant  preaching  still 

•34- 


The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

holds  to  an  essentially  traditional  view  of  the  scriptures  and 
does  not  accept  the  canons  of  historical  learning.  There  is 
indeed  a  deep  cleft  between  religion  and  thought. 

No  one  claims  that  science  is  always  right.  It  is  itself 
humble  and  teachable.  In  these  virtues  it  is  often  more  reli- 
gious than  religion.  But  it  does  claim  to  be  one  of  the 
avenues  toward  the  truth.  It  has  achieved  conceptions  of 
the  material  universe  and  certain  methods  of  work  accepted 
by  so  large  a  part  of  the  world  of  thought  that  religion  can 
do  nothing  else  than  examine  them  fearlessly  and  try  them 
bravely. 

Many  are  no  longer  interested  especially  in  this  con- 
troversy. The  flank  of  the  battle  against  tradition  has  been 
turned  by  religion  itself,  in  the  charge  that  the  traditional 
views  of  church  and  scriptures  are  not  only  unscientific  but 
irreligious.  Modern  religion  believes  in  the  prophet,  and  in 
the  continued  revelation  of  truth  as  ever  of  old.  The  tradi- 
tional experience  is  not  sufficiently  religious  for  the  modem 
man. 

The  cleft  between  morals  and  religion  is  the  issue  of  the 
hour.  Many  times  have  I  listened  to  the  claim  on  the  part 
of  some  social  worker  that  there  was  more  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God  outside  the  church  than  in  it.  Many  times  has  it 
been  charged  that  the  church  was  interested  in  charity  but 
not  in  justice.  The  older  aristocratic  churches  do  not  in  the 
nature  of  the  case  sympathize  with  the  growingly  demo- 
cratic character  of  modern  morals.  Of  late,  there  has  been 
large  attention  on  the  part  of  denominational  leaders  and 
newspapers  to  the  industrial  and  civic  questions  of  the  day. 
But  even  so,  the  leadership  in  social  criticism  and  in  con- 
structive social  suggestion  has  been  outside  the  church 
rather  than  in  it.  The  fault  does  not  lie  with  Christianity  as 
such.  The  implications  of  that  are  wide  and  deep,  and 
would  involve  profound  alterations  in  many  institutional 
structures  if  logically  and  thoroughly  applied.  It  is  a  mis- 
fortune not  merely  for  religion  but  for  the  world  of  social 
and  moral  leadership  that  they  are  so  dissevered. 

More  and  more  people  are  becoming  interested  in  this 
subject.  It  is  the  overwhelming  question  of  the  day.  It  is 

•35- 


Art  &  Religion 

infinitely  more  important  for  the  moment,  and  possibly 
always  will  be,  than  the  subject  of  this  book.  And  yet,  from 
another  point  of  view  it  is  part  of  the  same  subject.  For  it 
is  after  all  the  struggle  of  human  life  to  have  a  larger  share 
in  the  beauty  of  life. 

The  cleft  between  art  and  religion  is  a  less  familiar  sub- 
ject. The  lines  of  cleavage  between  religion  and  art  run 
differently.  If  the  old  hierarchic  churches  seem  to  us  of 
the  Protestant  world  still  to  be  interested  in  the  maintenance 
of  outworn  truth  and  in  the  practice  of  an  outworn  good- 
ness, they  may  easily  accuse  us  of  not  being  interested  in 
beauty  at  all.  As  there  is  a  world  of  Science  outside  the 
church  satisfied  with  the  love  of  truth  and  a  world  of 
Morality  outside  the  church  seeking  its  own  way  of  good- 
ness, so  there  is  a  world  of  Art  outside  the  church  enjoying 
its  life  of  beauty ;  and  it  is  a  very  large  world. 

There  is  something  about  life  more  significant  than  think- 
ing or  than  doing,  life  itself  which  finds  its  expression  and  its 
joy  in  the  beauty  of  nature  and  of  art  and  the  intimations 
and  communion  which  these  assist.  It  is  a  fatal  mistake  for 
religion  not  to  realize  the  vast  numbers  of  people  who  find 
their  spiritual  satisfactions  as  devotees  of  the  arts. 

Humanity  permanently  craves  beauty.  The  generation 
will  soon  be  here  which  will  refuse  to  worship  in  ugly  build- 
ings, or  attend  an  ill-constructed  service  with  fitful  and 
spasmodic  music.  There  are  more  people  of  the  present 
generation  who  have  withdrawn  from  devotion  to  the 
church  for  its  failure  in  beauty  than  we  imagine.  Worship 
is  a  fine  art,  the  finest  and  highest  of  all  the  arts,  but  there 
has  been  little  improvement  in  it  since  the  Reformation. 

This  accusation  holds  against  the  older  churches  as  well 
as  against  the  free  churches.  We  may  rightly  lay  to  the 
influence  of  the  Reformation  the  negation  of  the  arts  which 
on  the  whole  has  characterized  Protestantism.  There  is  no 
logical  reason  why  Protestantism  should  be  suspicious  of 
the  fine  arts,  but  the  historic  results  have  been  as  unfor- 
tunate as  if  there  were.  Not  all  the  poor  artistry,  however,  in 
the  Christian  churches  is  the  fault  of  the  free  churches.  It 
is   possibly   no  more   blameworthy   to  be   contented   with 

.36.  ■ 


The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

meager  and  uninteresting  forms  than  to  maintain  outworn 
and  stereotyped  forms,  however  successful  they  may  once 
have  been. 

The  canon  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Mass  has  been  fixed 
for  so  long  that  no  improvement  in  the  art  of  worship  can 
be  credited  to  the  Roman  Church  for  many  generations.  The 
service  is  still  in  Latin.  Those  who  are  instructed  in  its 
meaning  step  by  step  can  understand  it,  but  not  anyone 
else.  Symbolic  art  was  devised  for  the  purpose  of  communi- 
cation. A  stranger  to  the  Christian  faith  would  be  very 
slightly  enlightened  by  the  symbols  which  the  Romanists 
use  to  convey  the  gospel  message. 

The  Roman  Church  makes  great  claim  of  being  the 
vehicle  for  the  continued  revelations  of  the  Divine  Word. 
But  nothing  has  been  vouchsafed  to  it  for  hundreds  of 
years  sufficiently  fresh  and  enlivening  to  find  incorporation 
in  the  regular  mode  of  teaching  the  people.  There  seem  to 
have  been  no  improvements  even  in  the  matter  of  telling  the 
old  truths.  A  liturgy  which  is  truly  vital  must  certainly 
from  time  to  time  be  purged  of  the  elements  for  which  there 
no  longer  appear  assignable  reasons.  The  principal  variable 
parts  of  the  missal  were  themselves  selected  more  or  less 
arbitrarily.  Mr.  Adrian  Fortesque,*  in  his  study  of  litur- 
gical sources,  cannot  discover  any  reasons  for  the  assign- 
ment of  the  schedule  of  Introits  as  they  now  stand.  All  these 
things  are  sufficiently  faulty  apart  from  the  chief  criticism 
of  all,  that  the  religion  taught  in  the  Roman  service  is  not 
the  modern  man's  religion. 

These  things  were  not  always  true  of  the  great  liturgy 
of  the  church.  Far  back,  in  the  days  of  the  Fathers,  there 
were  varied  and  variable  usages  both  east  and  west.  In  the 
later  crystallizations  of  form  throughout  different  nations 
there  were  developed  different  orders  of  worship,  Syrian, 
Coptic,  Leonine,  Galilean,  Gelasian,  Gregorian,  Gothic, 
Jacobite,  Mozarabic,  Sarum,  St.  James,  St.  Mark,  and 
other  sacramentaries.  Some  of  these  are  still  maintained. 
But  many  of  them  were  long  since  merged  and  lost  in  the 

*  Adrian  Fortesque,  "The  Mass." 

•37- 


Art  &  Religion 

authoritative  order  of  Rome,  and  the  vital  growth  of 
freedom  stopped. 

Architecturally  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  America 
is  just  now  making  very  great  improvements.  Much  of  its 
recent  work  is  of  great  artistic  merit.  But  it  is  passing 
strange  that  for  the  most  part  during  American  history 
there  should  have  come  to  this  new  nation  no  artistic  intel- 
ligence and  culture  through  the  channels  of  the  old  ecclesi- 
astical organization.  No  Protestant  Church  in  America  has 
built  any  more  ugly  buildings  than  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church. 

By  all  the  probabilities  in  the  case  we  should  look  for  a 
far  higher  record  in  the  Anglican  Church  and  its  American 
associate  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  And  so  indeed 
we  find  at  many  points.  The  architectural  history  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States  from  its  beginnings 
to  the  present  is  almost  unexceptionally  excellent.  No  other 
body  comes  anywhere  near  approaching  it.  Since  the  Colo- 
nial days,  when  it  followed  the  prevailing  Classic  mode,  it 
has  consistently  utilized  its  proper  English  Gothic  inspira- 
tion. I  have  never  seen  a  distinctly  bad  Episcopal  Church, 
and  there  are  many  buildings  of  great  beauty. 

The  state  of  the  case  for  the  liturgy  is  not  so  good.  The 
English  Book  of  Common  Prayer  is,  of  course,  one  of  the 
great  artistic  masterpieces  of  the  world.  Its  rhythmic  and 
noble  style  of  speech,  rich  vocabulary,  and  compact,  lucid 
structure  are  of  the  highest  order  of  art.  Its  range  of  ideas 
and  depths  of  feeling  betoken  a  religious  experience  genuine, 
profound,  and  sympathetic.  But  the  experience  so  beauti- 
fully set  forth  is  not  at  many  points  our  experience.  No 
very  important  change  has  been  incorporated  since  the  res- 
toration of  the  second  prayer  book  of  Edward  VI  by  Queen 
Elizabeth.  However  admirable  the  age  of  the  great  Eliza- 
bethans, its  emotions  and  ideals  will  not  completely  serve 
for  us. 

New  collects  are,  of  course,  used  in  this  country  and  in 
England,  but  the  principal  offices  remain  unchanged.  There 
are  so  many  intimations  of  a  royal  and  aristocratic  regime 
that  as  it  stands  it  cannot  serve  to  express  our  present  faith 

.38. 


The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

or  aspiration.  Its  morality  is  different  from  our  morality. 
The  theology  back  of  it  is  not  our  theology.  Its  content  of 
ideas  is  not  satisfactory.  And  its  form,  although  gracious 
and  powerful,  is,  nevertheless,  more  and  more  remote  from 
the  forms  of  average  speech,  especially  in  America. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  go  to  outsiders  for  criticisms  of  the 
Episcopal  liturgy.  "The  prayer  book  as  it  stands  is  a  volume 
that  serves  only  those  who  are  highly  instructed  in  the 
faith."*  This  is  the  same  fault  that  attaches  to  the  Latin 
Mass,  and  almost  as  grave.  This  remoteness  from  the  com- 
mon medium  speech  was  more  than  ever  discovered  in  the 
pressure  of  army  camp  conditions.  "How  we  have  blushed 
for  the  incomprehensibility  even  of  the  collects,"  writes 
Chaplain  Milner-White.  "We  never  guessed  of  old  how 
removed  it  was  from  common  wants :  nor  how  unintelligible 
are  its  prayers  and  forms  of  devotion.  Its  climate  to  the 
simple  ardent  Christian  is  often  ice." 

Respecting  inadequacy  of  the  order  to  express  modern 
moral  conditions  is  this:  "The  prayer  book  in  a  peculiar  way 
reflects  the  mind  of  the  church  to  the  nation.  It  is  the  public 
programme  of  British  institutional  Christianity;  an  official 
demonstration  of  the  interests  and  passions  that  we  bring 
to  the  throne  of  God.  Men  mark  that  these  interests  are 
curiously  remote  from  those  of  an  eager  and  well-meaning 
world,  from  its  life,  society,  and  work.  For  example,  the 
problems  of  labor  press  upon  us,  and  vast  Christian  issues 
hang  upon  them,  but  the  Prayer  Book  cares,  on  the  face  of  it, 
for  none  of  these  things;  and  the  Church  therefore  stands 
condemned  by  the  millions.  If  only  a  litany  of  labor  lay 
within  its  covers,  what  a  reproach  would  be  done  away  with. 
And  more — it  would  preach  Christian  social  obligations  as 
a  thousand  sermons  could  not;  the  mere  fact  of  being  in  a 
prayer  book  would  make  it,  so  to  speak,  a  general  routine 
order;  the  conscience  of  church  people  would  be  insensibly 
and  surely  taught  and  moved." 

Another  writer,  the  Rev.  C.  Salisbury  Woodward,  M.C., 
M.A.,    Canon    of   Southwark   Cathedral,    says    that    "The 

*The  Rev.  E.  Milner-White,  D.S.O.,  M.A.,  "The  Church  in  the  Fur- 
nace." 

•39- 


Art  &  Religion 

language  of  many  of  the  prayers  is  out  of  date  and  there- 
fore unintelligible  if  not  actually  misleading  to  the  major- 
ity," and  that  "The  subject  matter  of  the  prayers  is  unsatis- 
factory; it  is  too  general  and  abstract  for  common  use."  He 
also  believes  that  the  psalms  and  lessons  are  indiscriminate 
and  not  well  selected  for  modern  faith  or  devotion.  He 
proposes  changes  in  these  and  in  the  form  of  language:  "If 
John  Smith  and  Thomas  Jones  are  to  learn  to  pray  with 
reality  they  must  be  allowed  to  ask  for  the  things  they  really 
need  and  to  ask  for  them  in  the  language  of  their  own  day, 
not  in  that  of  the  Elizabethans,  however  perfect  the  latter 
might  have  been."* 

Some  of  these  criticisms  are  the  same  as  originally  made 
by  the  first  Puritans.  It  is  surely  not  to  be  expected  that  the 
average  American  can  be  spiritually  satisfied  by  these  forms 
so  long  ago  unsatisfactory  to  many,  lately  in  the  critical 
experience  of  the  war  freshly  seen  to  be  inadequate  to  set 
forth  modem  faith  and  hope.  This  is  not  to  refuse,  however, 
to  make  use  of  many  of  the  best  prayers  in  the  book.  Some 
of  these  prayers  are  published  in  the  ordinary  hymnals  of 
free  churches  and  often  used.  Yet  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
reasons  which  keeps  the  free  churches  from  a  larger  resort  to 
this  great  treasury  of  devotion  is  the  seeming  inability  of 
those  who  use  it  and  publish  it  to  maintain  it  as  a  fresh  and 
growing  instrument  of  grace. 

The  cleft  between  the  rest  of  Protestantism  and  the  world 
of  the  arts  would  be  patent  to  all  if  we  had  eyes  to  see  it. 
Not  all  of  Protestantism  is  derived  from  the  Puritans.  The 
Lutheran  bodies  were  little  touched  with  Puritan  feeling. 
Their  forms  early  became  stereotyped  and  have  ever  since 
been  characterized  by  a  certain  dryness.  Yet  even  so,  some 
of  their  usages  are  far  superior  to  those  of  many  of  the  free 
churches. 

The  Wesleyan  bodies,  having  once  left  behind  the  mother 
church,  early  developed  exercises  of  vivid  color  and  warmth, 
appealing  to  the  sensibilities  in  a  more  primitive  and  more 
powerful  way  than  the  finer  arts  are  capable  of.  Fiery  speech 

*The  Rev.  C.  Salisbury  Woodward,  M.C.,  M.A.,  "The  Church  in  the 
Furnace." 

.40. 


The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

and  highly  colored  rhetoric  were  proved  to  be  more  effective 
in  pioneer  conditions  than  lighted  altars  or  vested  choirs.  It 
remains  to  be  seen  whether  the  usage  of  these  emotional 
factors  can  continue  to  be  inspiring  as  the  community  be- 
comes older  and  more  cultivated. 

The  Puritans  themselves  objected  to  the  material  elements 
in  the  sacraments.  They  abolished  not  only  holy  water  and 
ashes  but  also  pictures  and  statues,  not  only  shrines  of  the 
saints  but  organs  and  instruments  of  music  and  even  the  use 
of  the  ring  in  the  marriage  service.  Presbyterian,  Refonned, 
Baptist,  and  Congregational  bodies  were  largely  touched  at 
the  very  beginning  with  the  Puritan  spirit.  Yet  the  usages  in 
all  of  these  groups  are  today  ver}-  different  from  the  original 
practices  and  they  are  as  formal  and  stereotyped  in  their  own 
way  as  the  canon  of  the  Mass  itself.  The  boasted  freedom 
and  spontaneity  of  the  free  church  worship  has  shaken  itself 
down  to  a  common  level  of  custom,  and  not  a  very  high  one 
at  that.  One  might  easily  discover  on  examining  the  order  of 
service  in  a  thousand  churches  of  these  denominations  that 
the  variations  would  be  so  slight  as  to  be  negligible. 

There  is  a  kind  of  average  order  of  service  used  all  over 
the  United  States  in  the  majority  of  Protestant  churches 
which  is  pretty  much  the  same  thing.  It  has  been  developed 
naively  and  has  some  excellent  traits.  And  if  it  is  proposed 
to  change  it,  someone  is  sure  to  cry,  "No,  no,  this  is  not 
Congregational,"  or  whatever  other  church  proposes  the 
experiment.  Yet  the  fact  is,  that  this  average  order  is  of 
comparatively  recent  date  and  only  remotely  resembles  the 
exercises  of  public  worship  used  in  the  earlier  days  of  all 
these  bodies.  The  order  has  the  merit  of  natural  develop- 
ment, but  with  equal  naturalness  it  needs  more  development, 
and  it  also  needs  something  else,  as  do  all  the  old  liturgies. 

We  live  in  an  analytical  and  psychological  age,  and  are 
no  longer  able  to  enjoy  a  wholly  naive  experience.  In  a  day 
when  all  the  other  arts  are  analyzed  and  criticised  in  detail, 
it  is  impossible  to  expect  that  an  uncriticised  art  of  worship 
can  be  effective.  We  have  come  to  the  point  where  we  must 
reexamine  the  whole  subject.  This  average  order  that  is  so 
prevalent   among  us   is   unpsychological,    tiresome,    stereo- 

.41. 


Art  &  Religion 

typed,  ill  constructed,  neither  interesting  nor  impressive  nor 
beautiful.  It  contains  far  less  spontaneous  and  original  mate- 
rial than  is  claimed  for  it.  Even  in  the  prayers,  the  only 
opportunity  for  fresh  content,  probably  the  average  minister 
covers  the  same  thoughts  in  the  same  style  much  more  fre- 
quently than  does  the  Prayer  Book  and  does  not  do  it  nearly 
so  well.  There  is  more  repetition  of  phrases  and  of  ideas  than 
in  the  written  liturgy.  Notable  exceptions  on  the  part  of 
gifted  ministers  do  not  alter  this  unfortunate  general 
situation. 

We  have  a  liturgy  but  it  is  a  poor  one.  We  use  artistry  but 
not  good  artistry.  The  current  usages  in  forms  of  worship  are 
not  at  all  those  which  originally  characterized  the  religious 
movement  of  the  Protestant  world.  They  are  the  forms  de- 
veloped in  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  a  time, 
more  than  any  other  in  all  history,  of  artistic  confusion  and 
prevalent  ugliness. 

Recently  there  have  been  many  attempts  at  improvement, 
some  of  them  significant  and  successful.  For  the  most  part, 
however,  they  are  spoken  of  as  "enrichment  of  the  service," 
"the  use  of  forms,"  "an  elaborate  order  of  worship."  None 
of  these  phrases  explains  much,  or  indicates  any  genuinely 
artistic  achievement.  They  do  evidence  a  dissatisfaction  with 
something  sadly  in  need  of  improvement.  But  the  need  is  not 
more  formalism  nor  enrichment  nor  elaboration.  The  need  is 
for  unity,  simplicity,  and  beauty.  There  are  many  "en- 
riched" services  composed  simply  of  the  typical,  ugly,  aver- 
age American  order  with  additions  of  musical  numbers, 
choir  responses,  vestments,  or  read  prayers,  a  kind  of  glori- 
fied city  edition  of  the  common  town  order.  All  these  things 
jumbled  together,  however  elaborate,  or  however  beautiful 
in  detail,  do  not  make  a  noble  liturgy.  Nothing  is  beautiful 
that  does  not  have  unity,  harmony,  wholeness. 

There  will  continue  to  be  a  cleft  between  religion  and  art 
until  the  service  of  worship  in  the  average  Christian  church 
is  organized  on  precisely  the  same  principles  as  those  by 
which  any  artist,  working  in  any  medium,  organizes  the 
material  under  his  hand  into  a  beautiful  work. 

Equally  severed  from  the  high  possibilities  that  are  open 

.42. 


Hall  &  Winton,  Builders,  1826. 


FIRST  CHURCH   IN  CHESHIRE  •  ■C0N;NECTICUT 

A  "Colonial"  church  greatly  superior  to  any' of  the  nondescript 

buildings  common  in  America  until  the  recent 

style  revivals. 


The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

to  us  is  the  most  of  American  church  architecture.  Here  also 
all  is  confusion  in  the  Protestant  world.  Those  ecclesiastical 
bodies  of  a  homogeneous  tradition  and  race  have  done  much 
better  than  the  others.  The  Lutheran  and  Reformed  groups 
are  of  this  character,  and  their  buildings,  if  not  always  beau- 
tiful, are  always  symbolic  of  their  use  and  dignified.  Pre- 
vious to  1830,  an  excellent  American  style  prevailed,  and 
there  yet  remain,  throughout  the  commonwealths  of  the 
early  colonies  both  north  and  south,  numbers  of  very  beauti- 
ful Colonial  churches. 

Everyone  familiar  with  American  domestic  and  public 
architecture  since  that  time  knows  the  sad  story  of  wretched 
and  ugly  work  in  various  forms.  Two  or  three  strong  notes 
in  building  gained  considerable  currency  one  after  another 
throughout  the  country,  such  as  a  slender  kind  of  wooden 
Gothic,  the  walnut-and-marble-fireplace  period,  the  Mansart- 
roof  decade.  Then  came  the  most  shocking  of  all  the  types, 
the  attempted  reproductions  which  followed  the  work  of  a 
great  architect,  Richardson.  Not  only  West,  but  in  the  East, 
there  are  innumerable  church  buildings  which  must  be  laid  to 
his  door.  His  own  work  was  magnificent,  especially  in  Trin- 
ity Church,  Boston;  but  all  over  the  country  there  are  little 
churches  which  resemble,  however  faintly,  the  few  successful 
buildings  that  were  made  in  this  adapted  Romanesque  style. 

By  some  terrible  invasion  of  a  desire  for  a  practical  build- 
ing, a  combination  building,  there  appeared  in  this  style  the 
device  of  a  square  church,  having  the  pulpit  in  one  corner 
so  that  the  opening  of  great  folding  doors  could  combine  a 
Sunday  school  hall  with  the  church  auditorium.  No  inven- 
tion was  ever  more  frightful.  No  artist  would  dream  of 
focusing  attention  to  the  comer  of  a  square  room.  Sitting 
askew  of  the  cardinal  points  puts  a  slant  into  your  very 
morals.  And  the  circular  pews  make  one  feel  as  though  he 
were  in  a  clinical  laboratory.  The  prominence  of  organ  pipes 
on  one  side  and  the  dreary,  barren  waste  of  folding  doors 
on  the  other  constitute  a  composition  in  disharmony  and 
impropriety  almost  positively  demoralizing.  The  buildings 
of  this  style  stand  on  one  side  of  a  deep  and  wide  gulf  from 

.45. 


Art  &  Religion 

anything  that  could  remotely  be  connected  with  the  world 
of  the  fine  arts. 

It  seems  utterly  unbelievable,  but  within  a  year  or  two 
there  has  actually  been  published  a  book  promoted  by  the 
Missionary  Education  Movement,  recommending  for  coun- 
try churches  precisely  this  most  ugly  conceivable  structure, 
the  square  church  with  corner  pulpit.  That  such  ignorance 
and  bad  taste  should  be  found  among  church  leaders  of  the 
time  is  ample  evidence  of  the  sorry  state  of  religious  art. 
Why  should  these  leaders  be  unaware  of  the  excellent  work 
being  done  in  many  quarters? 

We  are  rapidly  approaching  a  time  of  far  greater  interest 
and  demand  for  successful  artistry  than  ever  before  in 
American  life.  Domestic  and  public  architecture  is  improv- 
ing by  leaps  and  bounds.  Better  taste  is  being  developed 
throughout  the  whole  community.  Larger  and  larger  num- 
bers of  people  are  becoming  familiar  with  the  best  products 
of  the  world  of  the  arts.  Meanwhile  very  few  religious 
leaders  are  at  all  conscious  of  the  connection  between  the 
art  of  worship  and  art  in  general,  and  there  are  still  being 
built  incredibly  disagreeable  church  buildings.  Religion  may 
fairly  be  charged  with  being  far  removed  both  architectur- 
ally and  liturgically  from  the  canons  of  taste  and  of  beauty 
which  are  rapidly  being  applied  in  all  other  departments  of 
life. 

The  charge  should  be  extended  to  include  blame  not  only 
for  bad  artistry,  but  for  failure  to  make  larger  and  better 
use  of  the  positive  goods  to  be  derived  from  all  the  arts, 
glass  work,  painting,  sculpture,  decoration,  dramatic  action, 
music,  literature,  and  architecture. 

The  fault  is  not  wholly  the  fault  of  the  church,  but  also 
of  artists.  Very  few  artists  know  enough  about  religion  or 
the  church  to  represent  it  in  saying  what  needs  to  be  said 
artistically.  Few  architects  understand  the  message  of 
modem  religion.  Few  composers  have  sought  to  produce 
work  which  could  be  woven  into  a  unified  liturgical  compo- 
sition. Few  patrons  of  the  arts  have  realized  the  incom- 
parable opportunity  for  public  refinement  and  elevation 
offered  by  the  churches. 

.46- 


The  Cleft  between  Art  and  Religion 

Religion  is  more  than  beauty,  and  worship  is  more  than 
art.  If  the  artist  is  captivated  by  the  life  of  beauty,  the  reli- 
gionist is  able  to  see  the  beauty  of  life.  It  is  precisely  because 
the  artist  is  himself  so  good  a  seer,  and  because  his  work 
helps  people  to  see  some  part  of  reality,  that  religion  needs  to 
work  with  him  that  people  may  be  led  to  a  more  moving 
vision  of  the  Whole. 


47 


Chapter  V :  The  Mutual  Need 

WE  need  first  to  speak  of  mutual  recognition.  The  i 
churchman  has  not  yet  noted  the  magnitude  of  : 
the  world  of  the  arts.  He  has  moved  in  the  area  j 
of  his  own  spiritual  experience  and  his  own  modes  of  wor-  i 
ship.  He  has  related  that  experience  with  the  problems  of  i 
thought,  or  at  least  he  thinks  he  has.  He  has  related  that  | 
experience  with  the  problems  of  conduct,  the  morals  of  pri-  j 
vate  life,  and  now  more  and  more  the  morals  of  industrial  i 
life.  He  has  noticed  the  world  of  science  and  the  world  of  \ 
civics ;  he  is  only  slightly  aware  of  the  world  of  art,  ; 

The  artist  is  vaguely  aware  of  the  pervasive  fact  of  reli-  i 
gion,  but  is  in  the  main  ignorant  of  the  directions  of  religious  ; 
progress.  His  religious  interest  tends  to  be  archaeological.  He  : 
enjoys  the  survey  of  the  picturesque  remnants  and  survivals  \ 
of  once  vital  and  noble  rituals;  he  has  little  interest  in  the  i 
spiritual  growths  which  have  not  yet  found  expression  in  i 
his  own  mode.  If  art  is  to  have  a  vital  connection  with  ! 
religion,  it  must  face  forward  instead  of  backward,  it  must  '. 
begin  to  anticipate  the  future  movements  of  the  spirit  rather  ! 
than  to  occupy  itself  with  wistful  regrets  for  disappearing  | 
religious  cultures.  i 

Every  civilized  community  is  now  vitally  interested  in  \ 
the  arts.  In  any  great  modern  city  the  numbers  of  persons  j 
and  the  numbers  of  hours  devoted  to  some  form  of  artistic  , 
production  are  very  far  in  excess  of  the  numbers  of  persons  | 
or  hours  consciously  devoted  to  religion.  Night  after  night,  ! 
theaters  are  filled  with  thousands  of  people.  Day  after  day,  I 
the  moving  picture  houses  are  thronged.  Week  after  week,  , 
the  printing  presses  are  turning  out  unnumbered  copies  of  , 
novels.  Month  after  month,  the  popular  magazines  publish  i 
millions  of  pages  of  short  stories.  Much  of  this  output  may 
not  be  sufficiently  good  to  be  acknowledged  as  art,  but  it  * 

.48-  j 


The  Mutual  Need 

pretends  to  be,  and  the  success  of  its  appeal  lies  in  the  cate- 
gory of  the  arts.  So  much  will  be  readily  recognized. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  be  aware  of  the  scope  of  the  higher 
works  of  art  and  of  artistic  criticism.  A  very  large  number 
of  American  cities  foster  the  production  of  music  on  a  high 
plane.  The  most  of  these  also  possess  a  more  or  less  creditable 
collection  of  works  of  plastic  or  pictorial  art,  together  with 
the  possessions  of  private  collectors.  Large  portions  of  the 
journalistic  press  of  all  nations  are  devoted  to  the  criticism 
of  the  fine  arts.  The  comparatively  small  space  in  the  popu- 
lar journals  devoted  to  religion  is  in  some  measure  an  index 
of  the  comparative  popular  interest.  There  are  not  many 
journals  devoted  wholly  to  the  arts,  but  they  are  for  the 
most  part  of  a  high  order  of  excellence.  Not  only  questions 
of  technique  and  composition,  but  questions  of  spiritual 
interpretation  crowd  the  paragraphs  of  the  art  critics  of  the 
world. 

The  first  thing  to  say,  then,  is  an  admonition  to  the 
churchmen  simply  to  notice  these  facts,  the  incalculable  sum 
total  of  human  interest  devoted  in  one  way  or  another  to 
the  production  or  appreciation  of  poetic,  dramatic,  and  other 
literature,  to  music,  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  and 
the  decorative  arts. 

The  second  thing  to  say,  is  an  admonition  to  the  artist  to 
open  his  eyes  to  the  perennial  and  pervasive  human  interest 
in  religion.  There  is  no  community  without  it  in  some  form 
or  other.  It  is  a  world  far  more  subtle,  powerful,  and  exten- 
sive than  his  world.  Those  who  consciously  devote  them- 
selves to  it  far  outnumber  those  who  have  anything  like  a 
critical  attitude  toward  the  arts.  Its  feeling  reaches  almost 
every  human  life  at  its  beginning  and  end.  Its  enterprises 
engage  the  services  of  far  more  professional  workers,  to- 
gether with  far  more  volunteer  workers,  than  any  other 
human  interest.  It  is  a  vast,  complicated  world,  which  can- 
not possibly  be  ignored  by  anyone  who  attempts  to  see  life 
and  see  it  whole. 

In  the  light  of  these  facts,  I  am  setting  down  two  or  three 
ways  in  which  art  needs  religion  and  religion  needs  the  arts. 

I  am  not  unmindful  of  the  danger  to  the  artist  and  his 

.49. 


Art  &  Religion  I 

work  if  he  sees  and  speaks  from  the  point  of  view  of  any  i 
specific  religion.  If  his  spirit  and  outlook  are  limited  to  the 
range  of  experience  derived  from  any  particular  religious  \ 
sect,  he  is  by  that  very  fact  hindered  from  the  fresh  and  un-  i 
trammeled  insight  expected  of  him.  He  cannot  be  a  success-  ■ 
ful  seer  if  he  sees  nothing  more  than  he  has  been  taught  to  i 
see.  But  the  true  artist  is  not  very  liable  to  this  danger.  He  | 
possesses  an  independence  of  his  own.  His  danger  is,  rather,  | 
a  too  great  separation  from  normal  feelings.  The  average  ' 
artist  is  a  separatistic  person.  He  may  belong  to  a  group  or  : 
guild  of  fellow  craftsmen.  He  is  at  least  subconsciously  ; 
aware  of  the  great  dominant  spirit  of  his  time  and  nation:  I 
but  he  is  almost  necessarily  a  more  aloof  and  independent  j 
worker  than  the  scientist  or  the  moralist  or  the  religionist.       ! 

The  superiority  of  religion  is  this,  that  it  has  been  built  i 
up  in  the  community.  It  relates  itself  to  all  interests  and  all  { 
experiences,  past,  present,  and  future.  It  comprises  the  pur-  j 
suit  of  truth  and  goodness  as  well  as  of  beauty.  It  draws  I 
upon  efforts  of  the  mind  and  of  the  will  as  well  as  of  the  ' 
emotions.  It  has  its  theology  as  well  as  its  ritual.  It  is  at  ' 
work  as  well  as  at  worship.  It  has  an  evangel  to  proclaim,  a  : 
mission  to  perform,  a  perpetual  moral  program  to  carry  ! 
through,  a  perpetual  ministry  to  exercise.  When  it  betakes  ' 
itself  to  contemplation,  it  is  already  equipped  with  the  best  j 
thinking  of  the  day  and  the  best  ethics  of  the  day.  Its  total  \ 
attitude  to  the  world  is  not  derived  from  the  imagination  ! 
only,  but  from  rigid  processes  of  historic  thought  and  from  : 
persistent  efforts  in  the  practical  world.  These  mental  and  ' 
moral  factors  have  entered  into  its  make-up  profoundly.         j 

The  artist,  without  religion,  usually  approaches  his  world  ! 
very  largely  uninfluenced  by  the  values  derived  from  science 
and  philosophy,  or  the  virtues  engendered  in  the  moral  j 
efforts  of  mankind.  It  is  impossible  for  the  religious  mystic  j 
to  approach  his  world  without  being  profoundly  affected,  I 
even  though  subconsciously,  by  the  long  inclusion  of  the  < 
values  of  thinker  and  doer  in  the  life  of  the  religious  com-  ; 
munity  to  which  he  belongs.  The  fine  arts  of  the  world  would  j 
be  infinitely  richer  if  produced  by  men  whose  attitudes  | 
toward  life  came  forward  out  of  the  more  inclusive  back-   j 

•50-  j 


The  Mutual  Need 

ground  which  it  is  the  constant  effort  of  religion  to  main- 
tain in  the  human  consciousness. 

Art  needs  religion,  therefore,  to  universalize  its  back- 
ground of  concepts,  both  mentally  and  morally.  Some  art 
critics,  such  as  Benedetto  Croce,  repudiate  the  art  that  be- 
gins conceptually.  They  do  not  regard  anything  as  strictly 
in  the  world  of  aesthetics  except  an  immediate  intuition  of 
particular  reality.  I  do  not  know  what  they  would  make  of 
"Macbeth"  or  Rodin's  "Hand  of  God."  Certainly  these 
works  seem  to  have  been  conceived  rather  than  perceived. 
And  in  any  case,  the  artist's  perception  of  particulars  is 
powerfully  affected  by  his  conceptions  of  all  things.  The 
only  area  in  which  conceptions  of  all  things  are  formed  by 
the  historic  and  communal  exercise  of  all  the  human  facul- 
ties and  endeavors  is  the  area  of  religion. 

Art  needs  religion  to  correct  its  moral  content.  I  do  not 
wish  artists  to  be  pointing  morals.  But  they  are  constantly 
affecting  popular  morals  whether  they  intend  to  or  not.  I  am 
willing  to  admit  that  this  is  none  of  their  concern,  but  it  is 
the  concern  of  the  rest  of  us.  And  it  is  their  concern  to  pro- 
duce works  of  artistic  excellence,  which  is  impossible  if  these 
works  are  not  true  reports  of  life  as  it  is.  Religion  presumes 
to  make  a  true  report  of  life  as  it  is.  It  assumes  to  describe 
spiritual  laws  as  these  are  discovered  to  be  true  and  univer- 
sal. It  assumes  to  construct  a  definite  moral  content  in  the 
light  of  these  laws.  If  the  artist  could  bring  to  his  observa- 
tion of  life  and  his  artistic  depiction  the  moral  equipment 
of  religion,  he  would  be  a  better  artist.  I  am  not  asking  that 
he  be  a  moralist  except  in  so  far  as  it  affects  his  art. 

Religion  needs  art  to  be  impressive,  to  get  a  hearing.  This 
is  one  of  the  chief  problems  of  the  church.  How  shall  it  arrest 
attention?  How  shall  it  make  itself  more  noticeable  in  the 
community*?  How  shall  it  set  forth  its  first  appeal  so  that 
he  who  runs  may  read?  Most  people  are  in  a  hurry  these 
days,  involved  in  many  affairs.  Weak  voices  and  unimpres- 
sive proposals  do  not  reach  them.  Religion  cannot  affect  the 
average  man  unless  it  first  gets  his  attention.  The  problem  of 
advertising  religion  is  far  deeper  than  a  matter  of  newspaper 
notices.  At  this  point  the  fine  art  of  building  is  the  chief 

.51. 


Art  &  Religion 

dependence  and  religion  cannot  dispense  with  it.  This  is 
especially  true  in  the  larger  communities.  In  the  life  of  the 
older  America,  most  people  of  the  community  understood 
a  great  deal  about  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  differences 
through  which  the  differing  sects  came  into  being.  This  is 
not  true  today.  The  masses  of  our  church  people  no  longer 
understand  these  things  or  care  about  them.  The  masses  of 
aliens  know  nothing  about  them.  The  majority  simply  read 
from  superficials.  The  obscure  and  unimpressive  church 
buildings,  however  high  or  distinguished  may  be  the  life 
which  they  house,  tell  nothing  to  the  average  outsider.  The 
religion  that  survives  in  the  new  age  will  be  impressively 
set  forth  at  the  very  start  by  the  outward  appearance  and 
interesting  character  of  its  structure.  Moreover,  first  impres- 
sions on  the  inside  are  vital.  The  church  can  utilize  the  work 
of  the  artist  architect,  decorator,  musician,  and  liturgist  to 
the  ends  of  an  immediately  impressive  appeal  to  anyone  who 
comes  within. 

It  is  the  artistic  side  of  religion  which  is  the  chief  source 
of  the  enjoyment  of  it.  The  deeper  joys  of  religion  are,  to  be 
sure,  its  spiritual  joys,  trust,  and  peace,  and  hope,  forgive- 
ness and  worthy  labor.  But  the  everyday  human  satisfac- 
tions, and  sometimes  the  stimulus  for  the  higher  spiritual 
joys,  are  derived  from  successful  artistry  in  public  worship. 
Religion  would  not  long  attract  people  in  an  advancing 
civilization  if  it  should  cut  away  the  rhythmic  fonns  of 
hymns  and  songs,  the  artistic  excellence  of  diction  and 
rhetoric,  and  the  stately  dignity  of  noble  buildings.  Many 
people  turn  to  art  instead  of  to  religion  for  rest  and  refuge, 
for  recreation  after  the  moral  struggle  of  practical  life.  A 
work  of  noble  art  is  in  itself,  by  its  composure  and  perfec- 
tion, a  peace  giver,  a  restorative,  a  sanctuary  for  the  moment 
inviolable.  How  much  more  would  men  turn  to  religion  if 
the  great  composing  faiths  could  be  set  forth  so  triumphantly 
in  noble  and  sensible  forms  as  to  restore  the  joy  of  salvation. 

Reverence  and  humility  are  assisted  by  the  arts.  Ugly 
buildings  together  with  careless  and  slipshod  orders  of  serv- 
ice certainly  do  not  assist  reverence  nor  tend  to  make  any- 
body humble.  The  most  of  people  despise  poor  workman- 

.52. 


The  Mutual  Need 

ship.  They  are  not  readily  led  to  revere  the  works  of  God  by 
bungling  and  imperfect  works  of  man.  Perfection  they 
respect;  carefulness  and  finish  they  admire.  It  is  the  attempt 
of  every  work  of  art  to  approach  perfection  in  its  own 
medium.  Its  effect  is  to  shame  carelessness  and  imperfection. 
The  assistance  of  various  arts  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  worshiper  in  church  in  such  a  way  as  to  help  him  to  be 
reverent  and  to  display  to  him  the  larger  cause  of  religion 
over  against  which  his  own  life  may  be  seen  to  be  unsatis- 
factory. 

To  conserve  and  freshen  old  truths  is  a  constant  task  in 
religion.  All  communication  is  more  or  less  symbolic.  Sym- 
bols addressed  to  the  eye  and  to  the  ear  add  weight  to  those 
which  merely  address  the  mind.  Art  is  representative,  that 
is,  it  presents  again  and  again  understood  but  unrealized 
truths.  It  refreshes  the  experience  of  valuable  but  neglected 
standards.  It  revives  fundamental  but  oft-forgotten  ideals. 
It  succeeds  in  reaching  the  inner  man.  It  is  penetrative,  it 
drives  deeper  than  prose  or  logic.  When  we  wish  to  realize 
afresh  for  our  comfort  the  providing  care  of  God,  we  do  not 
simply  state  a  proposition  about  it;  we  read,  "The  Lord  is 
my  shepherd."  But  this  is  art.  The  Twenty-third  Psalm 
carries  farther  and  means  more  because  it  has  rhythm  and 
imagery  as  well  as  beautiful  thought.  So  also,  in  many  direc- 
tions, works  of  plastic  or  pictorial  art,  music,  song,  succeed 
in  communicating  the  faith  where  bare  prose  and  cold  reason 
are  ineffective. 

To  seek  new  light  and  new  truth  is  an  equally  constant 
effort  of  religion.  Some  form  of  artistry  is  always  valuable  as 
a  preparation  for  new  insight.  The  direct  physical  effect  of 
beauty  is  to  kindle  the  senses  and  to  increase  the  imagina- 
tion. This  tends  to  open-mindedness.  This  lifts  people  above 
the  region  of  prejudice  into  a  freer  air  and  a  more  compre- 
hensive outlook.  Something  of  this  sort  is  necessary  before 
the  word  of  new  truth  can  secure  a  hospitable  reception.  The 
editor  of  the  Outlook  has  recently  said:  "There  is  nothing 
today  so  essential  to  the  world  as  its  art.  Even  the  prophet 
and  teacher  of  religion  cannot  avail  unless  he  either  has  in 

•53- 


Art  &  Religion 

him  the  creative  power  of  the  artist  or  can  enlist  that  creative 
power  in  the  service  of  the  ideas  he  promulgates,"* 

Religion  needs  the  arts  to  quicken  resolves.  Resolution  is 
getting  courage  up  to  "the  sticking  point."  Great  purposes 
may  be  formed  in  the  cold  and  the  dark.  Not  often,  however, 
unless  that  cold  and  dark  be  exceptional  and  critical.  They 
are  more  commonly  formed  in  times  of  illumination  and 
power.  The  many  lesser  resolves  necessary  to  keep  good 
works  and  good  lives  going  are  assisted  by  recurrent  emo- 
tional experiences.  If  the  emotional  life  of  people  is  largely 
stimulated  outside  of  religion,  it  is  less  liable  to  be  directed 
into  worthy  or  intelligent  resolution  and  practical  issue.  If 
religious  life  is  unstirred  by  emotion,  it  is  little  likely  to 
develop  the  zeal  necessary  to  overcome  the  world. 

Religion  and  art,  therefore,  need  each  other.  Art  without 
religion  fails  of  the  highest  significance.  Religion  without  art 
is  dumb. 

It  is  unfortunate  for  the  world  that  the  imaginative  power 
engendered  amongst  the  devotees  of  the  arts  is  not  more 
directly  harnessed  to  the  moral  efforts  of  the  times.  It  is 
unfortunate  for  art  as  art  not  to  be  stirred  by  the  great  con- 
cerns of  progressive  religion.  Writes  Mr.  Lisle  March  Phil- 
lipps:  "It  is  the  peculiarity  of  modem  art  that  to  an  entire 
doubt  as  to  its  own  aims  and  principles  it  unites  an  extraordi- 
narily highly  developed  gift  of  manual  dexterity  and  great 
technical  knowledge.  It  can  paint  or  carve  anything  it  likes 
exactly  in  the  manner  it  likes;  at  the  same  time  it  does  not 
know  in  the  least  what  to  paint  or  carve,  or  with  what  pur- 
pose to  paint  or  carve  it."t  Religion  could  tell  it. 

Religion,  on  the  other  hand,  is  in  these  days  often  crude 
and  uncultivated  in  its  forms  of  expression.  It  is  often 
meager  in  thought  and  limited  in  imagination.  It  does  not 
give  people  entrance  to  that  abundant  life  that  thrills  and 
throbs  in  the  aspirations  of  humanity  as  a  whole.  It  is  often 
less  passionate  and  less  daring  in  its  search  for  reality  than 
art.  Stanton  Coit  has  pointed  out  this  dearth  of  religion 
without  the  aid  of  art:  "Protestantism  in  purifying  its  inner 

*  The   Outlook,  December   17,   1919. 

t  Phillipps,  "Art  and  Environment,"  p.  266. 

.54. 


The  Mutual  Need 

life  has  gone  far  toward  destroying  its  outward  form.  .  .  . 
But  without  expression,  and  expression  in  choice  and  deliber- 
ate form,  religion,  like  the  feelings,  tends  to  become  stag- 
nant, sour  and  corrupt."*  The  religion  of  the  new  age  will 
sympathize  with  every  circle  of  spiritual  aspirants,  and  call 
to  its  service  the  gifted  workers  in  every  field  of  human 
progress,  the  artistic  no  less  than  the  scientific  and  philan- 
thropic. 

*  Stanton  Coit,  "Social  Worship," 


55 


Chapter  VI:  Corporeality  in  Religion 

THE  word  spiritual  is  one  of  the  most  misused  terms 
in  the  religious  dictionary.  It  is  commonly  used  as 
applied  to  some  experience  that  is  largely  physical. 
Paul  had  a  difficult  time  persuading  the  Corinthians  that  the 
excitement  of  speaking  with  tongues  was  of  a  lower  spiritu- 
ality than  the  more  temperate  gifts.  There  would  appear 
to  be  something  properly  called  spiritual  about  those  unim- 
passioned  virtues,  patience,  perseverance,  meekness,  and  the 
like,  displayed  in  the  cold  and  the  dark,  in  temptation  and 
loneliness,  that  is  far  removed  from  the  emotional  glow  so 
often  called  spiritual.  These  are  the  highest  fruits  of  the 
spirit. 

But  the  spiritual  life  as  a  whole  rises  from  the  physical 
life.  If  it  rises  at  last  purely  and  freely,  it  none  the  less  rises 
from  the  swathing  fires  of  sensibility.  And  the  kindling  of 
the  sense  usually  requires  something  tangible,  touchable, 
visible.  Spirituality  is  the  great  and  desirable  end;  corporeal- 
ity is  the  necessary  means.  Truth  must  be  embodied  to  be 
realized ;  it  must  be  incorporated  to  be  understood.  No  reli- 
gious movement  has  ever  been  forceful  or  popular  without  a 
rich  corporeality.  An  image,  a  rite,  a  creed,  a  feeling,  a  feast, 
a  vision,  or  a  sacrament  has  always  been  used  to  embody  its 
truth. 

Religion  has  ever  struggled  to  reach  a  true  balance  of 
body  and  spirit.  Prophets,  in  the  name  of  the  spirit,  have 
over  and  again  led  the  revolt  against  idolatry.  But  the  people 
have  not  been  able  to  reach  their  heights,  they  have  neither 
understood  nor  remembered  the  high  word  of  the  prophet 
until  a  priest  has  brought  it  close  by  a  symbol  or  a  sacra- 
ment. Then,  alas,  the  people  have  loved  the  symbols  and 
the  sacraments  for  their  own  sakes,  until  the  day  of  another 
prophetic  revolt  of  the  spirit.  My  sympathies  in  this  entirely 
human  story  are  not  only  with  the  prophets,  but  with  priests 

.56. 


Corporeality  in  Religion 

and  people  as  well.  Religion  will  always  require  fresh  incor- 
poration as  well  as  recurrent  reformation. 

Historically,  there  have  been  three  principal  types  of 
appeal  to  the  senses — the  incorporation  of  truth  by  Physical 
Symbols  or  Acts;  its  embodiment  in  Creeds;  its  arousement 
to  Crude  Excitement. 

The  symbols,  rites,  and  sacraments  most  commonly  famil- 
iar are  those  of  the  Hebrew  and  Catholic  worship.  Our 
modern  interest  in  the  Old  Testament  is  so  largely  centered 
in  the  prophetic  books  yet  so  valuable  to  us,  that  we  fail  to 
appreciate  the  prominence  of  the  cultus  or  ritual  practice  in 
early  Jewish  religion.  Beginning  with  no  other  object  of 
veneration  than  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  the  Jehovah  faith 
rapidly  adopted  Canaanitish  shrines,  high  places,  and  sacri- 
ficial practices.  The  three  agricultural  feasts,  later  increased 
to  seven,  Solomon's  Temple,  the  calves  of  Jeroboam  the  son 
of  Nebat  at  Dan  and  Bethel,  the  morning  and  evening 
sacrifices  on  the  open  altar  in  Jerusalem,  the  great  Day  of 
Atonement,  the  processionals  and  psalm  liturgies,  with  other 
objects  and  exercises,  constituted  a  rich  and  impressive 
corporeality  in  religion  without  which  it  could  not  have 
maintained  its  life. 

So  also  the  mediaeval  Christian  church  made  elaborate 
use  of  symbols  and  rites  to  represent  its  truths  and  make 
them  impressive.  Mediaeval  corporeality  centered  in  the 
seven  sacraments,  around  each  of  which  was  developed  a 
more  or  less  extensive  usage  of  forms,  acts,  and  objects. 
Baptism  brought  the  child  into  membership  with  the  church. 
Confirmation  signalized  reception  into  full  communion  and 
imparted  grace  from  God.  By  the  Eucharist  the  spiritual 
nature  was  nourished  to  eternal  life.  In  Penance,  sins  since 
Baptism  were  healed.  Ordination  invested  the  new  priest 
with  power  for  the  eucharistic  miracle.  Marriage  expressed 
the  sanction  of  the  church  over  the  fundamental  acts  of  life. 
Extreme  Unction  fitted  the  believer  for  entrance  into 
Heaven.  Besides  these,  many  other  religious  ideas  and  expe- 
riences were  tangibly  symbolized  or  stimulated — penitence 
by  the  confessional ;  the  forgiveness  of  sins  by  priestly  abso- 
lution; the  life  of  personal  prayer  by  the  rosary,  household 

•57- 


Art  &  Religion 

images,  candles,  and  incense ;  the  sacrificing  spirit  of  secular 
and  religious  priests  by  humble  garb  and  ascetic  life;  the 
sacrifices  of  the  people  by  special  and  seasonal  self-denials; 
the  dignity  and  power  of  the  church  by  the  pomp  of  the 
hierocracy;  public  worship  by  magnificent  and  beautiful 
churches,  shrines,  statues,  paintings,  and  music;  the  unity  of 
the  church  by  prayers  for  the  dead  and  offerings  to  the 
saints. 

Many  other  lesser  usages  and  forms  were  utilized,  varie- 
ties of  vestments,  festivals,  processionals,  crucifixes  and 
banners,  chants  and  offices,  prayer  books  and  gestures,  sta- 
tions and  pilgrimages;  all  of  these  being  forms  of  incor- 
porating some  experience  or  faith.  Outtopping  all,  brilliant, 
penetrating,  and  awful,  the  celebration  of  the  Mass  consti- 
tuted perhaps  the  most  impressive  religious  act  ever  devised. 

Against  these  great  Hebrew  and  Catholic  systems  of  cul- 
tus,  the  prophets  revolted;  Amos,  Hosea,  Isaiah,  and  Micah 
in  the  eighth  century  B,  C. ;  Luther  and  Zwingli  and  others 
in  the  sixteenth  century  A.  D.  But  in  each  case  the  prophets 
had  scarcely  done  speaking  when  their  spiritual  word  was 
in  turn  embodied  in  a  new  form  of  incorporation  on  a  dis- 
tinctly lower  plane,  but  by  a  process  absolutely  necessary  to 
its  perpetuation.  We  thus  come  to  the  second  type  of 
corporeality  in  religion,  that  of  creeds  and  codes. 

The  ancient  prophets  looked  on  the  rites  and  sacrifices  of 
their  day,  and  they  sternly  said:  No,  this  is  not  religion, 
this  is  not  what  Jehovah  requires.  We  are  not  saved  by  feast 
and  assembly;  we  are  saved  by  righteousness.  "I  desire  mercy 
and  not  sacrifice."  They  thoroughly  moralized  religion. 
Then  the  legalists  stepped  in  and  began  to  define  and  specify 
the  righteousness.  They  framed  the  code  of  Deuteronomy 
to  embody,  to  incorporate,  the  moral  religion  of  the  great 
prophets.  Speedily  the  "Law"  became  the  same  kind  of 
object  of  veneration  and  formality  as  the  golden  calves. 
They  worshiped  the  "Law"  like  an  idol.  Psalm  119  is  a 
song  of  praise  to  the  "Law." 

So,  also,  is  the  story  of  the  Christian  reformers.  Luther 
thought  on  the  sacraments  of  the  mediaeval  church  and  all 
the  gross  formalism  that  had  gathered  round  their  adminis- 

.58- 


Corporeality  in  Religion 

tration.  And  he  said:  No,  this  is  not  religion.  We  are  not 
saved  by  these  sacramental  rites,  we  are  saved  by  faith.  He, 
too,  freshly  moralized  and  spiritualized  religion.  But  he  was 
no  sooner  gone  than  once  again  the  same  old  story  repeated 
itself.  His  followers  and  successors  began  to  make  lists  of  the 
faiths  by  which  we  are  saved.  And  these  were  written  down 
in  the  Augsburg  Confession,  the  Heidelburg  Catechism,  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  and  the  Westminster  Confession  of 
Faith.  In  these  formularies  there  was  embodied  and  incor- 
porated the  new  spiritual  and  moralized  religion  of  the 
Reformers. 

But  these  became  the  same  kind  of  objects  of  veneration 
as  the  images  they  dispossessed.  Probably  no  statue  of  the 
Virgin  was  ever  more  thoroughly  idolized  than  the  West- 
minster Confession  of  Faith.  The  attitude  toward  it  is  no 
more  commendable  on  the  one  hand  and  no  more  repre- 
hensible on  the  other  than  the  attitude  of  the  devotees  of  the 
Mass.  It  is  quite  precisely  the  same,  no  better,  no  worse. 

Psychologically,  this  creedal  form  of  corporeality  in  reli- 
gion has  answered  the  same  purpose  as  the  ritual  form.  Just 
as  the  mediaeval  priest  held  up  his  crucifix,  or  elevated  the 
Host,  just  so  the  Calvinist  preacher  held  up  his  creed;  and 
for  the  same  purpose,  to  bring  near  that  which  is  far,  to  com- 
municate the  unspeakable,  to  tell  the  unutterable,  to  make 
tangible  the  faith  in  the  unseen.  These  Reformation  state- 
ments of  faith  are  so  complete,  so  exact,  so  finished,  clear-cut, 
and  closed  as  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  an  object.  They  are 
no  less  objective  than  a  Catholic  image;  but  not  so  flexible, 
for  you  may  get  anything  you  put  there  out  of  an  image  but 
not  from  a  creed.  They  are  no  less  formal  than  a  Catholic 
ceremony,  for  salvation  by  faith  has  often  become  salvation 
by  credence,  a  thoroughly  unspiritual  proposal. 

Against  these  systems  of  legalism  and  creedalism,  the 
prophets  again  revolted.  The  reformation  of  Jesus  was  set 
over  against  the  formalism  of  Pharisaic  devotion  to  the 
"Law,"  that  there  might  be  born  a  religion  more  purely  of 
the  Spirit  spiritual.  The  movement  of  John  Wesley  was  in 
part  a  reaction  from  the  hardness  and  dryness  of  creedal 
formalism  that  there  might  prevail  a  more  inward  expe- 

•59- 


Art  &  Religion 

rience  of  the  Spirit.  But  here  again,  as  ever  before,  the  high 
prophetic  and  spiritual  word  was  lowered  in  the  process  of 
popularity.  The  issue  displays  the  third  type  of  corporeality 
in  religion,  that  of  crude  excitement. 

An  account  of  Jesus'  break  with  the  legal  religion  of  his 
day  is  a  long  story  by  itself.  Although  he  spoke  of  fulfilling 
the  "Law,"  he  distinguished  between  greater  and  lesser 
commands  of  the  "Law"  and  did  not  himself  hesitate  to 
break  lesser  laws  at  the  inner  dictation  of  a  higher  law  of 
the  Spirit.  The  outcome  of  his  relation  to  the  "Law"  was  the 
liberation  of  the  early  Christian  community  from  the  Mosaic 
codes  and  the  freedom  of  new  life  and  power  by  the  Spirit. 

But  the  more  violent  and  bodily  manifestations  of  the 
Spirit  soon  became  the  more  popular.  People  began  to  enjoy 
spiritual  possession.  They  began  to  seek  it,  not  for  self- 
mastery  and  all  the  graces  of  goodness,  but  for  power  over 
others  and  for  physical  thrills  in  themselves.  They  sought 
excitements  and  ecstasy  for  their  own  sakes  until  they 
appeared  to  be  mad  or  drunken,  uttering  incoherent  cries 
and  speaking  with  "tongues." 

So,  also,  John  Wesley  was  disturbed  by  the  formalisms  of 
his  later  day,  the  creedal  religion  so  like  the  legal  religion 
of  Pharisaism.  No,  he  said,  we  are  not  saved  by  these  beliefs, 
these  agreements  to  the  creeds  and  confessions.  Religion  is  a 
matter  of  the  heart,  a  right  attitude  of  spirit,  an  inward 
knowledge  of  God  and  His  saving  grace,  not  a  thing  of  the 
mind  and  its  definitions.  We  must  have  a  new  heart  and 
know  and  feel  ourselves  saved.  This  was  the  high  word  of 
a  prophet,  protesting  against  the  formalisms  of  creedal  reli- 
gion in  the  name  of  the  Spirit. 

But  it  was  scarcely  said  than  it,  too,  like  its  prototypes, 
descended  in  order  to  be  understood,  to  be  popular  and 
effective.  You  must  feel  your  religion  inwardly.  Very  well, 
then,  go  to  an  old-fashioned  camp  meeting  and  you  may  see 
people  feel  it.  They  come  home  reporting  a  wonderful  spir- 
itual time,  when  what  they  have  had  was  a  wonderful  physi- 
cal time.  I  am  not  criticising  just  here,  but  only  describing. 
The  popular  camp  meeting  preacher  has  never  been  the  quiet 
teacher  of  spiritual  and  moral   religion,   but  the  brilliant 

.60. 


Corporeality  in  Religion 

orator,  who,  by  vivid  imagery,  personal  magnetism,  and  a 
kind  of  physical  tour  de  force  could  rouse  the  emotions  until 
laughter,  tears,  and  creeping  flesh,  and  half-hysterical  speak- 
ing with  tongues  signalized  that  ecstatic  enjoyment  for 
which  the  people  had  come  and  marked  another  memorable 
"experience"  of  religion. 

This  type  of  religious  corporeality,  no  less  than  the  ritual 
and  creedal  types,  thus  came  to  be  enjoyable  and  sought 
for  its  own  sake;  that  is,  it  was  idolized,  made  an  end  in 
itself.  Its  thrilling  and  emotional  character  brought  together 
throngs  of  people  attracted  over  and  again  by  its  fleshly 
pleasure.  This  is  the  factor  chiefly  responsible  for  the  power 
and  rapid  spread  of  this  type  of  religious  experience  in 
America.  The  religious  bodies  which  have  fostered  it  and 
utilized  it  have  become  the  largest  churches  in  the  country. 

Besides  these  three  types  of  physical  appeal  in  religion, 
there  are,  of  course,  others,  such  as  Christian  Science  and 
Apocalypse.  The  incorporation  of  religious  faith  in  a  creed 
has  often  been  paralleled  by  the  symbolism  of  a  vivid  Hope. 
The  history  of  this  kind  of  formalism  in  religion  is  long  and 
interesting,  just  now  renewed  in  popular  attention  to  Pre- 
millennial  or  Second  Coming  dreams.  Its  widespread  recru- 
desence  at  this  moment  is  simply  another  instance  of  the 
immemorial  tendency  of  human  nature  to  slip  from  under 
the  hard  demands  of  spiritual  and  moral  religion  in  order  to 
enjoy  the  speculative,  the  vividly  imaginative,  and  the  self- 
approval  of  passionate  attachment  to  a  definitely  objective 
religious  figure.  Followers  of  this  Adventism,  instead  of 
worshiping  God  and  seeking  to  display  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
in  common  life,  have  fashioned  the  physical  figure  of  a 
vision  descending  from  the  clouds,  and  devote  themselves  to 
the  adoration  of  this  image  and  to  calling  upon  other  men  to 
share  with  them  this  useless  cult. 

Christian  Science  also  must  be  described  as  making  liberal 
use  of  corporeality.  Like  Omar  Khayyam,  who  constantly 
advises  us  to  forget  death,  thereby  indicating  that  it  is  the 
one  thing  he  cannot  forget,  so  the  Scientist  constantly  cries 
Spirit,  Spirit,  all  the  while  blaming  the  rest  of  us  for  our 
refusal  to  be  forever  concerned  with  healing  our  bodies. 

.61. 


Art  &  Religion 

In  the  main,  however,  historic  religion  has  always  dis- 
played one  or  another  of  the  three  types  of  physical  appeal 
we  are  chiefly  considering.  Some  kind  of  formal  element 
religion  has  always  had.  I  am  not  objecting  to  these  forms; 
the  thing  I  am  objecting  to  is  that  we  have  given  them  up. 
At  least  the  bulk  of  present-day  Protestantism  no  longer 
makes  any  very  large  or  interesting  use  of  them.  And  this 
is  one  of  the  things  the  matter  with  us.  We  do  not  have 
statues  and  paintings,  nor  a  noble  liturgy;  we  no  longer 
devote  ourselves  to  the  great  Reformation  creedal  formu- 
laries; even  the  Methodists  have  largely  left  off  the  very 
emotionalism  that  gave  them  such  great  power;  we  are  too 
spiritual;  we  have  a  religion  that  won't  work  except  in  a 
realm  of  disembodied  spirits. 

Without  detailed  analysis,  and  not  to  anticipate,  there 
would  seem  to  be  more  hope  of  future  improvement  along 
the  lines  of  the  first  type  rather  than  the  others.  The  third 
form,  that  of  Crude  Excitement,  is  too  low  and  primitive 
and  never  has  appealed  permanently  to  the  better  spirits  of 
any  people.  Moreover,  its  intellectual  content  is  always  too 
meager  and  shifting  and  personal  to  be  long  utilized  on  a 
general  scale.  Which  is  not  to  say  that  at  its  highest  it  is 
not  to  have  a  powerful  place  in  religion.  We  still  hope  that 
there  may  be  many  in  the  succession  of  Chrysostom,  Savona- 
rola, Whitfield,  and  Moody. 

With  the  second  type,  the  modern  man  and  his  contempt 
of  creeds  has  perhaps  too  little  sympathy.  We  need  creeds, 
but  we  are  properly  too  humble  to  complete  and  compress 
our  faith  in  finished  creeds :  we  want  sun  parlors  and  open 
porches  in  our  house  of  faith,  always  inviting  the  visitation 
of  newer  and  later  revelations  of  the  Spirit.  For  after  all, 
the  humility  of  agnosticism,  so  far  from  being  inimical  to 
worship,  is  perhaps  its  natural  beginning.  Which  is  not  to  say 
that  we  can  get  on  without  slogans  and  mottoes  and  working 
statements  of  common  faith.  But  these  can  scarcely  supply 
the  emotional  fire  necessary  to  popular  religion.  The  first 
type,  however,  can  be  utilized  with  vastly  greater  power  and 
variety  than  ordinary  Protestantism  has  ever  considered. 

.62. 


Chapter  VII :  The  Sensational  Character  of  Art 

T^E  first  force  of  a  work  of  art  is  its  appeal  to  the 
senses.  This  is  direct  and  immediate.  It  is  the  physi- 
cal effect,  ahiiost  utterly  unescapable  whenever  there 
is  presented  to  anyone  a  vigorous  composition  in  color  or  in 
tone  or  a  strong  rhythm  of  song  or  of  motion. 

Religion  which  has  disdained  the  arts  as  sensuous  has  not, 
therefore,  escaped  sensationalism.  It  has  developed  the  sensa- 
tional preacher.  He  is  the  man  who  preaches  for  a  sensuous 
effect.  He  has  greater  success  usually  in  getting  people  to 
come  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say  than  in  having  something 
worth  while  to  say  when  they  get  there.  This  is  not  always 
true  but  it  is  so  very  commonly.  Our  most  thoughtful  minis- 
ters, those  under  whose  preaching  the  more  serious-minded 
people  desire  to  sit,  are  little  given  to  sensational  preaching. 
Their  form  is  good  form  but  it  is  not  nowadays  florid,  overly 
dramatic,  or  eccentric  form.  They  touch  upon  timely  themes 
of  the  day,  not  as  advertising  captions  but  for  real  discus- 
sion. Your  true  and  proper  sensationalist  develops  rhetoric, 
gesture,  perhaps  even  hair  cuts,  newspaper  themes,  and 
peculiar  exercises  calculated  to  rouse  interest  and  produce  a 
momentary  enjoyment  or  excitement. 

Sensationalism  is  necessary  for  religion,  but  not  this  kind. 
I  would  rather  that  my  boys  should  be  appealed  to  by  the 
noble  sensationalism  of  excellent  paintings,  brilliant  music, 
and  noble  ritual  than  by  the  sensationalism  of  an  evangelist 
crawling  about  on  all  fours  like  a  bear  show. 

However  much  we  may  desire  to  spiritualize  our  religion, 
we  are  not  disembodied  spirits,  we  are  compact  together  of 
flesh  and  spirit — 

"Nor  soul  helps  flesh  more  now,  than  flesh  helps  soul." 

Our  view  of  human  nature  and  of  the  bodily  life  is  very 
different  from  that  of  the  Refonnation  theology-.  Our  new 

•  63- 


Art  &  Religion 

utilization  of  the  fine  arts  is  to  be  based  upon  the  new 
psychology  and  upon  the  new  theology  rather  than  upon 
Calvinism. 

The  impulses  of  the  flesh  may  develop  downward.  But 
also  every  human  instinct  may  become  the  root  of  a  possible 
spiritual  virtue.  If  our  task  is  still  partly  to  mortify  the 
flesh,  it  is  also  to  understand  it  and  use  it  for  good.  If  spir- 
itual experience  is  an  incorporeal  thing,  its  beginning  is 
usually  something  born  in  the  mystery  of  the  bodily  being. 
We  do  not  have  the  same  reasons  for  fearing  the  arts  that  the 
Puritan  had,  as  he  did  not  have  our  reasons  for  using  them. 

Sensationalism  has  always  been  deep  and  constant  in 
human  life  and  in  religion  and  always  will  be  during  the 
life  of  earth.  The  Hebrew  prophets  not  only  used  abundant 
imagery  in  speech  but  actual  physical  objects  and  eccentrici- 
ties of  conduct  to  capture  attention  and  press  home  their 
message.  It  seems  questionable  whether  Jesus  performed  his 
works  of  healing  for  this  purpose,  but  hardly  questionable 
that  his  approach  to  the  city  on  the  Day  of  Palms  was  a 
form  of  sensational  appeal.  It  may  be  said  of  it,  as  it  may 
be  said  of  other  sensational  conduct,  that  it  was  done  for 
effect.  Precisely  so,  for  that  is  the  way  to  be  effective. 

Our  modern  church  has  rather  too  little  than  too  much  of 
appeal  to  the  senses.  It  is  not  sufficiently  interesting  or  suffi- 
ciently thrilling.  I  do  not  at  all  object  to  the  sensational 
methods  of  the  orator  or  of  the  evangelist  in  their  proper 
place.  But  the  sensational  preacher  should  not  be  the  pastor 
and  teacher  of  a  normal  church,  large  or  small.  That  form  of 
appeal  to  the  senses  is  in  the  long  run  neither  so  effective  nor 
so  beneficial  as  quieter  forms — music,  decoration,  architec- 
ture, and  liturgy.  The  oratorical  type  may  be  more  thrilling 
at  the  moment  but  less  lasting  than  the  rhythms  set  going 
by  the  finer  arts. 

The  older  religions  all  make  more  effective  use  of  the 
noble  and  more  commendable  forms  of  appeal  to  the  senses. 
One  would  not  expect  to  get  the  following  testimony  from 
a  modern  free  churchman,  but  here  it  is:  "The  Japanese 
know  how  to  produce  effects,  they  have  a  sure  instinct  as  to 
the  moods  in  which  a  person  should  stand  before  a  temple  or 

■64- 


The  Sensational  Character  of  Art 

shrine.  Hence  they  study  the  approaches  to  their  sacred  spots 
ahnost  as  much  as  they  do  the  elaboration  of  the  spots  them- 
selves. The  Shintoists  have  their  torii  or  more  likely  lines 
of  torii  before  each  shrine;  the  Buddhists  love  to  place  their 
houses  of  worship  and  meditation  in  the  midst  of  great  trees 
or  on  the  tops  of  hills  which  they  approach  by  moss-covered 
staircases  of  stone.  .  .  .  When  one  has  removed  his  shoes 
and  penetrated  to  the  inner  shrine  and  stands  on  the  soft 
matted  floor  before  the  image  of  the  Great  Buddha,  the 
subtle  power  of  idolatry  when  wedded  to  high  art  becomes 
apparent  in  an  unmistakable  way.  The  sense  of  solemnity, 
of  quietness,  of  peace  is  in  the  very  air,  and  there  comes  to 
one  a  new  sympathy  toward  those  who  know  only  this  way 
of  consolation."*  These  beautiful  and  skillful  arrangements 
are  planned  for  their  direct  and  immediate  ejffect  upon  the 
senses  and  they  are  effective. 

Nor  would  one  naturally  expect  the  testimony  written  by 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  New  England  clergymen  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  a  leader  and  representative  of  the 
best  thought  of  his  day.  Dr.  Theodore  Munger  describes  the 
cathedrals  and  cathedral  services  of  the  English  Church.  And 
then  he  adds:  "Here  lies  the  secret  of  public  worship;  we  do 
not  worship  because  we  feel  like  it,  but  that  we  may  feel. 
The  feeling  may  have  died  out  under  the  pressure  of  the 
world,  but  coming  together  from  mere  habit,  and  starting 
on  the  level  of  mere  custom,  we  soon  feel  the  stirring  of  the 
wings  of  devotion,  and  begin  to  rise  heavenward  on  the  pin- 
nacles of  song  and  prayer.  This  is  well  understood  in  Eng- 
land, and  underlies  the  much  criticised  'Cathedral  sys- 
tem.' .  .  .  Here  is  a  mighty  fact  tremendously  asserted;  it 
forces  a  sort  of  inevitable  reverence,  not  the  highest  and 
purest  indeed,  but  something  worth  having.  It  becomes  the 
conservator  of  the  faith,  and  in  the  only  way  in  which  it  can 
be  conserved,  through  the  reverent  sentiment  and  poetry  of 
our  nature.  .  .  .  The  main  value  of  the  established  church 
is  its  lofty  and  unshaken  assertion  of  the  worth  of  worship — 
keeping  alive  reverence,  which  is  the  mother  of  morality, 
and  furnishing  a  public  environment  for  the  common  faith. 

*  Cornelius  H.  Patton  in  the   Congregationalist,  September   li,   1920. 

.65- 


Art  &  Religion 

This  system  of  form  and  worship  is  kept  up  because  the  high- 
est culture  and  intelligence  in  England  believe  in  it."* 

Sensationalism  of  some  kind  we  must  have  if  religion  is 
to  be  effective.  It  is  simply  a  question  of  a  critical  examina- 
tion of  the  best  kinds  of  appeal  to  the  senses  that  may  be 
properly  developed  for  our  own  time  and  temper.  Human 
nature  is  what  it  is,  we  must  touch  it  where  we  may.  There 
is  not  only  an  attracting  power,  but  an  educating  power,  in 
right  devices  of  artistry  carefully  and  conservatively  han- 
dled. I  am  not  disposed  to  quarrel,  though  I  cannot  agree, 
with  the  objector  who  does  not  wish  to  use  any  form  of 
appeal  to  the  senses.  But  let  not  the  man  who  objects  to  a 
richer  development  of  the  fine  arts  in  religion  ask  approval 
for  the  coarser  arts  of  rhetoric  and  eccentricity  on  the  part  of 
sensational  preachers  or  the  more  bungling  arts  of  worship 
current  amongst  our  American  churches. 

The  question  before  us,  if  we  are  candid,  is  not  whether 
we  shall  have  sensationalism  in  some  sort,  but  whether  we 
shall  have  it  in  the  more  refined  and  improved  forms  which 
are  at  once  just  as  effective  and  also  more  natural  and 
productive  of  the  healthy  emotional  life. 

*  Munger,  "The  Freedom  of  the  Faith,"  pp.  209-211. 


66 


Chapter  VIII :  A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

EVERY  religion  maintains  a  system  of  religious  acts 
and  exercises:  this  is  its  Cultus.  When  religion  be- 
comes so  largely  practical  as  greatly  to  minimize  the 
enjoyment  of  it,  there  arise  differing  forms  of  Cults,  systems 
of  self-realization.  Every  nation  which  arrives  at  self-con- 
sciousness does  so  by  some  process  of  "Kultur,"  the  total 
system  of  patriotic  values.  Culture  is  a  perennial  human 
interest,  the  enjoyment  of  the  "history  of  the  human  spirit." 
Modern  Protestantism  is  becoming  weak  on  the  side  of  its 
Cultus.  It  needs  freshly  to  consider  the  necessity  and  char- 
acter of  religious  culture. 

First  of  all,  religion  is  an  experience  of  Divinity  before  it 
becomes  righteousness  in  the  midst  of  Humanity.  The  old 
antinomy  between  action  and  contemplation  is  ever  with  us. 
Fought  out  many  times  in  the  history  of  religion,  it  will 
doubtless  be  fought  out  many  times  more.  Always  the  prac- 
tical moralist  accuses  the  religious  mystic  for  his  lack  of 
interest  in  development,  morality,  the  timely  issues  of  the 
day.  Always  the  mystic  wonders  what  the  practical  man  is 
driving  at,  always  questions  the  truth  of  progress.  Always 
he  asks  concerning  mechanical  inventions,  "Do  they  culti- 
vate the  soul?"  Each  party  has  almost  wrecked  religion 
many  times.  Artists  and  mystics  have  often  made  religion 
formal  and  unmoral,  needing  reformation.  Moralists  have 
never  been  able  to  establish  and  conserve  their  new  systems 
without  the  aid  of  artistry  and  of  worship. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  regard  a  system  of  ethics  or  a  code 
of  laws  merely  from  the  point  of  view  of  utility.  It  is  rather 
more  true  to  regard  moral  systems  as  the  means  to  religious 
ends.  Religion  is  the  end,  morality  the  means,  rather  than 
contrariwise.  The  whole  history  of  culture,  religious,  ethical, 
and  artistic,  testifies  this.  We  have  just  fought  a  great  war 
for  our  faith  that  the  State  with  its  "Kultur"  is  secondary 

■  67. 


Art  &  Religion 

and  the  fortunes  of  persons  primary.  Persons  are  the  ends 
for  which  the  State  exists,  not  means  to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
god  of  the  State. 

Even  codes  of  laws  reveal  an  aesthetic  interest.  The  ani- 
mus of  many  regulations,  not  only  in  primitive  sacred  law, 
but  in  modern  statute  law,  is  not  merely  utilitarianism,  but 
an  interest  in  orderliness  for  its  own  sake,  good  form, 
decorum,  beauty.  The  world  of  the  arts  in  toto  is  not  a 
practical  world.  It  expresses  and  reproduces  experiences  of 
the  spirit,  leisure  for  which  has  been  purchased  by  the  active 
life.  The  artist  is  not  interested  primarily  in  activity,  or  in 
the  results  of  activity.  His  interest  is  personal  or  universal. 
No  great  novel,  for  instance,  holds  our  attention  by  a  recital 
of  accomplishments.  Even  the  stories  of  adventure  and  bold 
achievement  care  not  so  much  for  the  value  of  the  achieve- 
ment as  for  the  moving  portrayal  of  the  hero's  stout  heart. 
The  novel  is  not  interested  in  what  a  man  does  but  only  in 
what  at  last  he  is. 

Religion  is  not  religion  unless  it  is  primarily  the  culti- 
vation of  the  divine  experience,  fostering  the  culture  of  the 
soul  as  its  supreme  end. 

Secondly^  all  religions  have  so  regarded  themselves,  and 
have  sought  and  have  cultivated  the  religious  experience. 
They  may  or  may  not  have  had  a  good  effect  upon  morals, 
they  have  invariably  reproduced  for  themselves  the  purely 
religious  experience.  The  survey  of  these  facts  is  the  source 
of  the  oft-repeated  assertion  that  man  is  incurably  religious. 
Every  historic  religion  has  insisted  that  life  was  not  all  work, 
but  also  worship.  Even  the  most  prophetic  periods  in  reli- 
gious history  have  speedily  established  some  form  of  Cultus, 
some  awareness  of  self  in  the  approved  role,  some  system  of 
enjoying  the  ideal  of  action  set  forth  in  the  prophetic  word. 
No  religion  has  become  so  thoroughly  moralized  as  to  lose 
its  sense  of  the  value  of  the  religious  experience.  Even  the 
Ethical  Culture  Society,  not  claiming  to  be  religious  at  all, 
by  its  very  style  and  title  publishes  its  belief  in  the  "culture" 
of  its  standards,  not  merely  in  the  prosaic  discussion  of  them. 
That  is,  it  seeks  to  bathe  itself  in  an  experience  of  contem- 

•  68. 


A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

plation  as  well  as  to  inform  itself  concerning  the  rights  and 
wrongs  of  human  action. 

The  purely  religious  experience  is,  of  course,  never  wholly 
divorced  from  the  moral  ideal.  Even  devotion  to  a  Cultus 
which  seems  to  include  no  moral  laws  involves  a  moral 
choice.  Every  religious  experience  thus  contains  moral  im- 
plications. In  Christianity,  the  moral  ideal  is  very  completely 
involved  in  the  religious  faith.  So  the  culture  of  religion 
includes  the  culture  of  the  accompanying  ideals  of  conduct. 
This  is  only  an  added  reason  for  that  culture,  for  right  atti- 
tudes of  the  spirit  toward  problems  of  the  practical  life  need 
to  be  not  merely  discussed  but  cultivated.  Great  moral  prin- 
ciples and  precepts  need  not  only  to  be  formulated  and  pro- 
claimed but  also  to  be  viewed  imaginatively,  attended  to  and 
inculcated. 

Thirdly,  for  assisting  the  reproduction  of  the  desired  reli- 
gious experience,  all  religions  have  used  some  form  of  Ap- 
paratus, some  Ritual.  No  social,  spiritual  experience  has 
been  maintained  without  external  and  formal  aids.  Merely 
getting  together  is  the  first  of  these  aids.  Merely  keeping 
silent  is  a  ritual  in  itself,  and  by  no  means  the  least  formal 
or  difficult  exercise.  The  Society  of  Friends  in  devising  this 
usage  did  so  not  because  they  would  minimize  spiritual  cul- 
ture, but  precisely  because  they  would  magnify  it.  The  sing- 
ing of  a  hymn  is  both  easy  and  informal  compared  to  a  pub- 
lic exercise  of  silence.  The  Quakers,  incidentally,  developed 
other  and  powerful  ritual  forms,  such  as  peculiar  dress, 
speech,  and  manners.  So  whether  the  Apparatus  used  be 
simple  and  bare,  or  whether  it  be  a  highly  elaborate  drama 
utilizing  all  the  fine  arts,  it  is,  nevertheless.  Apparatus  for 
the  purpose  of  assisting  the  culture  of  the  religious  expe- 
rience. 

Fourthly,  these  exercises  might  in  the  main  be  classified  as 
religious  acts  in  contrast  to  those  doings  which  might  be 
called  moral  acts.  All  human  action  is  in  some  sense  moral, 
it  has  to  do  with  human  relations.  There  would  appear  to 
be  some  elevated  persons  capable  of  casting  upon  all  the 
acts  of  their  common  life  some  religious  significance.  Yet  for 
the  sake  of  clearness  we  are  justified  in  making  distinctions, 

.69. 


Art  &  Religion 

and  in  holding  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  religious  act, 
an  exercise  of  the  human  faculties,  whether  with  or  without 
bodily  action,  such  as  is  something  more  than  mere  thought, 
and  something  other  than  can  be  described  in  terms  of 
human  or  moral  relations,  though  it  may  include  these. 
Prayer  is  such  an  act.  The  singing  of  a  hymn  might  be  such 
an  act.  The  joint  recital  of  a  creed  is  such  an  act.  Swearing 
allegiance  to  a  moral  program  may  be  such  an  act.  The  ad- 
ministration of  a  sacrament  and  participation  in  it  are  such 
acts.  All  such  acts,  of  however  great  or  small  physical  expres- 
sion, are  more  or  less  religious  according  to  the  inner  and 
real  participation.  The  sum  total  of  the  public  religious  acts 
of  a  religious  society  or  of  a  community  constitutes  its 
Cultus. 

Fifthly^  some  system  for  the  culture  of  the  religious  life, 
maintained  by  the  exercises  of  a  Cultus,  is  necessary  to  the 
perpetuation  of  religion.  To  begin  with,  this  is  religion,  this 
is  the  experience  of  divine  communion  for  which  the  moral 
life  is  only  the  means.  It  is  this  Cultus,  moreover,  which 
makes  religion  popular  because  enjoyable.  Moral  tasks  are 
irksome,  the  requirements  of  duty  are  severe,  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  life  are  often  painful,  the  record  of  achievement  is 
usually  unsatisfying.  Only  an  experience  of  religion,  only 
the  committal  of  all  to  God  and  the  fresh  vitality  by  Him 
bestowed  can  yield  the  highest  joys.  I  know  that  many  peo- 
ple come  to  church  out  of  habit  and  some  out  of  duty;  I 
believe  that  most  come  for  the  joy  of  it.  Whether  the  Cultus 
consists  of  fervid,  free,  and  easy  recitals  of  conversion  expe- 
riences ;  or  of  a  simple,  dignified  service  of  hymns,  readings, 
and  prayers,  together  with  a  strong  and  enthusing  sermon; 
or  follows  the  canon  of  the  Mass,  it  is  the  emotional  lift  that 
the  people  come  for. 

This  enjoyable  experience  is  necessary  to  the  life  of  reli- 
gion, not  only  as  a  perpetual  attraction,  but  as  an  unfailing 
source  of  vitality  in  the  personal  lives  of  the  worshipers, 
and  vitality  in  the  life  of  their  common  cause.  Moral  tasks 
are  not  only  irksome  but  exhausting.  The  religious  expe- 
rience recreates  the  power  for  them.  In  the  long  run,  the 
energy  for  reforming  society  and  evangelizing  the  world 

•  70- 


A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

comes  from  the  continued  exercises  of  devotion  which  con- 
stitute the  religious  Cultus. 

Sixthly^  modern  religion  has  a  deficient  Cultus.  If  our 
ordinary  American  churches  had  in  themselves  sufficiently 
supplied  human  need  in  this  direction,  there  need  not  have 
been  developed  the  so-called  Cults.  We  have  only  ourselves 
to  blame  that  we  have  given  cause  for  these  one-sided  move- 
ments by  our  own  one-sidedness.  The  intense  modern  inter- 
est in  the  moralizing  of  religion  has  undoubtedly  swung 
the  pendulum  far  away  from  the  culture  of  religion.  We 
are  not  yet  through  with  this  moralizing  process,  in  some 
ways  only  beginning  it.  The  social  gospel  is  the  cry  of  the 
hour,  and  rightly  so.  It  needs  no  denial  of  this  to  sound  a 
warning  respecting  the  other  side  of  religion.  Indeed,  secu- 
lar sociologists  themselves  are  in  these  days  beginning  to 
revalue  the  instructive,  holding,  dignifying,  stabilizing 
worth  of  public  religion.  Meanwhile,  the  best  Protestant 
minds  are  so  engrossed  in  the  all  but  overwhelming  demands 
for  the  development  of  a  new  and  more  thoroughgoing 
Christian  morality,  that  little  attention  has  been  given  to 
the  cultural  promulgation  of  the  principles  and  standards 
already  achieved.  We  need  a  bigger  and  better  Cultus.  We 
need  a  more  successful  Apparatus  of  self-realization  and  of 
God-realization  in  these  times. 

Moreover,  the  culture  of  religion  relates  itself  always, 
not  merely  to  exercises  in  contemporary  moral  conviction, 
but  also,  or  perhaps  rather  chiefly,  to  those  timeless  inter- 
ests of  human  life,  those  forces  and  factors  of  human  nature 
and  divine  nature  which  are  so  largely  the  same  in  every 
time  and  place.  The  bulk  of  the  literature  of  the  world  re- 
volves not  about  the  innumerable  divergencies  of  times  and 
places,  but  about  a  few  great  themes  of  universal  human 
experience.  If  this  be  true  in  the  spiritual  life  of  humanity 
as  expressed  in  its  letters,  religion  cannot  do  otherwise  than 
take  account  of  this  testimony  and  this  perennial  human 
need.  It  is  this  fact  which  makes  it  possible  for  religion  to 
develop  a  series  of  exercises  which  will  set  forth  its  faith 
and   revivify   its   convictions   and   apply   its   solutions   re- 

.71. 


Art  &  Religion 

specting  these  few  great  themes  and  problems  of  human 
existence. 

It  is  commonly  admitted  that  in  the  average  Protestant 
worship,  the  chief  dependence  for  whatever  heightened  expe- 
rience or  afflatus  is  enjoyed,  is  upon  the  sermon.  The  sermon 
is  becoming  more  and  more  inadequate  to  the  task.  As  the 
level  of  education  in  the  community  rises,  and  especially  the 
level  of  cultivation  in  the  arts  and  letters,  this  is  the  more 
true.  Why  depend  upon  the  art  of  rhetoric  alone,  when  other 
arts  also  afford  rich  resources  of  inspiration?  And  it  is  the 
experience  of  many  that  to  carry  in  the  sermon  the  burden 
of  the  emotional  effect  often  injures  its  usefulness  as  instruc- 
tion and  its  candor  as  discussion.  If  it  is  to  inspire,  it  cannot 
also  sufficiently  inform.  Turn  about,  its  task  of  instruction 
gets  often  in  the  way  of  its  function  of  emotional  uplift.  It 
would  not  necessarily  minimize  the  sermon  if  there  could  be 
also  a  highly  successful  and  moving  religious  exercise.  We 
have  too  commonly  regarded  the  other  exercises  as  prepara- 
tion for  the  sermon.  It  is  possible  to  make  them  complete 
and  wonderful  in  themselves. 

Even  to  regard  them  as  preparatory  to  the  sermon  de- 
mands a  vast  improvement.  The  average  exercise  of  public 
worship  today  constitutes  neither  a  finished  Cultus  by  itself 
nor  a  pertinent,  skillful,  and  dramatic  preparation  for  the 
sermon.  The  sermon,  at  its  height,  as  a  great  prophetic  utter- 
ance, is  sufficient  unto  itself,  and  needs  no  considerable 
preparation  or  outside  assistance.  But  we  would  do  well  to 
recognize  the  irregularity  of  the  prophetic  gift.  It  is  an 
extremely  conceited  and  presumptuous  claim,  which  is  fre- 
quently asserted,  that  the  preacher's  voice  is  regularly  the 
voice  of  the  prophet.  The  Vords  teacher  and  priest  suggest 
a  more  humble  and  accurate  description  of  what  the  min- 
ister is  in  the  usual  services  for  public  worship.  But  if  this 
be  true,  it  is  fatuous  to  allow  the  most  of  all  conscious  and 
subconscious  judgments  about  this  matter  to  fall  under  the 
categor)^  of  prophecy.  It  is  better  to  aspire  to  be  a  good 
teacher  and  priest  than  constantly  to  assume  the  role  of 
prophet  while  the  people  for  long-continued  periods  suffer 
the  dearth  of  any  genuinely  prophetic  word,  and  at  the  same 

.72. 


A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

time  arc  poorly  fed  and  faintly  stirred  by  a  bungling  and 
amateur  exercise  of  devotion.  These  times  of  instability  need 
amongst  other  things  a  more  rich  and  full  and  dependable 
presentation  of  the  rounded  and  complete  message  of  the 
Christian  faith  than  can  be  derived  from  the  average 
sermonizer. 

They  certainly  need,  also,  a  more  quiet  and  informing 
presentation  of  truth  than  can  possibly  come  from  the  highly 
picturesque  and  rhetorical  style  of  utterance  which  so  often 
characterizes  the  exceptionally  brilliant  preacher.  The  cul- 
ture of  the  spiritual  life  is  insufficiently  assisted  by  the  ordi- 
nary sermon ;  by  the  extraordinary  sermon,  it  is  often  misled, 
neglected,  or  directed  into  incidental  and  spasmodic  consid- 
erations. Moreover,  almost  by  definition  the  culture  of  the 
spiritual  life  is  partly  a  matter  of  self-energy,  and  self- 
realization,  and  self-devotion,  and  not  altogether  a  thing 
that  can  be  done  for  you.  The  most  stimulating  sermon  in 
the  world  leaves  much  to  be  desired  as  the  only  method  of 
the  Cultus.  Response,  meditation,  participation  on  the  part 
of  the  worshiper  are  more  profound  and  beneficial  than  fitful 
excitement.  Silence  and  composure,  self-exercise  and  spirit- 
ual effort  are  greatly  lacking  in  our  American  life.  We  are 
little  practiced  in  the  tutelage  of  the  spiritual  faculties  and 
the  discipline  of  the  spiritual  powers. 

Adequate  provision  for  these  things  needs  something 
richer,  something  at  once  more  stable  and  developing  than 
brilliant  sermonizing.  Those  churches  whose  vitality  seems 
to  depend  upon  a  succession  of  exceptional  orators  are  not 
well-grounded  institutions.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  are 
disappearing  one  by  one,  losing  out  to  the  slow  but  sure 
competition  of  a  more  churchly  and  broader  based  program 
of  spiritual  culture. 

Seventhly^  objections  to  the  Cultus  have  been  largely 
based  upon  its  alleged  nonmoral  and  unchanging  character. 
There  is  undoubtedly  a  tendency  for  anything  admittedly  an 
end  in  itself  to  disregard  its  relations  to  other  desirable  ends. 
Every  system  of  Cultus  has  displayed  this  tendency,  the 
evangelical  types  no  less  than  the  ritual  forms.  Enjoyed  for 
its  own  sake  it  easily  becomes  an  oft-repeated  celebration, 

•73- 


Art  &  Religion 

its  own  justification,  withdrawn  from  the  concerns  of 
practical  life. 

The  first  thing  to  say  is  that  in  a  measure  this  is  not  only 
good  but  also  right.  One  sometimes  wonders  why  the  wor- 
shiper in  the  church,  accused  of  fostering  his  own  pleasure 
and  failing  in  the  application  of  his  faith  to  the  affairs  of 
institutional  and  public  life,  does  not  sometimes  turn  and 
demand  that  the  accusers  give  him  a  little  peace  while  they 
direct  their  efforts  against  the  actor  and  the  painter  and  the 
singer,  and  other  devotees  of  the  spiritual  life.  From  one 
point  of  view,  people  have  at  least  as  good  a  right  to  enjoy 
the  worship  of  God  in  a  church  as  they  have  to  enjoy  a  play, 
or  an  opera  in  the  theater.  It  seems  not  to  occur  to  anyone 
to  accuse  the  regular  attendant  upon  the  productions  of 
chamber  music  of  being  uninterested  in  social  settlements 
or  prohibition  campaigns.  It  were  better  for  religion  not  to 
be  ashamed  but  to  glory  in  the  Cultus  for  its  own  sake. 

In  the  next  place,  it  is  not  true  historically  that  the  Cultus 
has  been  nonmoral.  The  primitive  priest  and  the  typical 
priest  has  been  always  a  lawgiver  and  teacher.  The  cults 
which  come  nearest  to  being  unmoral  are  not  those  most 
highly  elaborated  but  rather  the  modern  non-Christian 
movements  centered  in  narrow  forms  of  evangelicalism  or 
in  revived  forms  of  apocalyptic  hope.  No  religious  move- 
ment is  weaker  ethically  than  the  present-day  revival  of 
Messianism,  centering  its  religious  experience  about  the 
expectancy  of  world  renewal  by  the  literal  reappearance  of 
Christ  in  physical  form.  Of  commendable  piety  on  its  reli- 
gious side,  it  is  deadening  in  its  moral  effects.  It  tends  defi- 
nitely to  the  withdrawal  of  its  devotees  from  the  strenuous 
human  effort  to  improve  society  and  all  its  institutions  by 
the  divine  powers  given  to  men  to  these  ends. 

The  other  objection  is  that  the  Cultus  historically  has 
been  too  unyielding  to  change.  Two  things  are  to  be  said 
concerning  this  charge. 

The  objection  is  not  really  against  the  use  of  forms  but 
rather  against  the  premises  of  thought  behind  the  forms. 
Perhaps  forms  need  to  be  changed,  certainly  the  content  of 
ideas  in  them  needs  to  be  changed,  but  not  the  use  of  forms. 

•74- 


A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

In  another  chapter  I  am  presenting  some  facts  which  display 
the  historical  influence  of  the  artist,  that  is,  the  formalist, 
as  a  prophet  of  change.  That  whole  argument  might  well  be 
inserted  in  this  brief  at  this  point. 

The  other  thing  to  say  is  that  the  charge  is  partially  ad- 
mitted and  claimed  to  be  valuable  rather  than  otherwise. 
Surely  at  a  time  like  this,  so  confused  in  morals,  so  lacking 
in  generally  accepted  ethical  standards,  the  stabilizing  value 
of  any  great  system  of  Cultus  is  not  to  be  underestimated. 
The  prevalent  individualism  in  ethics  needs  no  encourage- 
ment but  rather  a  tighter  rein.  The  weakness  of  liberalism 
is  its  divisiveness.  If  the  best  moral  aspiration  of  the  day 
could  be  defined,  crystallized,  and  promulgated  in  a  great 
system  of  Cultus,  its  aims  could  be  given  far  more  practical 
effect  in  the  national  life.  No  liberal  wishes  to  curtail  the 
liberty  of  prophesying,  but  the  voice  of  prophecy  is  by  very 
definition  the  voice  of  protest,  the  cry  for  change.  The  very 
name  of  Protestantism  declares  its  one  weakness.  Can  the 
permanent  nurture  of  the  spiritual  life  be  founded  upon 
protest  alone*? 

Morality  is  always  suffering  the  dilemma  of  the  old  and 
the  new.  The  conservation  of  the  elder  values,  and  the 
admission  of  the  newer  lights  seem  always  to  be  contending 
factors.  It  is  certainly  no  solution  of  the  dilemma  simply  to 
choose  sides.  Some  day  concrete  religion  must  solve  the 
problem  of  being  and  becoming. 

It  is  a  practical  no  less  than  a  philosophical  question. 
Cannot  the  lovers  of  liberty  and  the  claims  of  prophecy  ad- 
mit the  necessity  of  establishing  for  at  least  a  brief  space 
from  time  to  time,  a  system  of  dogmas,  set  forth  and  taught 
for  the  guidance  and  the  stability  of  customary  life*?  Can- 
not the  conservatives,  who  fear  change,  be  willing  to  incor- 
porate amongst  these  dogmas  themselves  some  principle  of 
change  that  will  serve  to  guarantee  freedom  and  introduce 
the  desirable  new?  A  world  fixed  and  set  by  the  culture  of 
old  experience  is  stagnant  and  tyrannical.  But  a  world  per- 
petually agitated  by  discordant  voices  of  change  is  a  no  less 
unhappy  state  in  which  to  live. 

We  value  the  Old  Testament  prophets  and  applaud  their 

•75- 


Art  &  Religion 

protestantism.  We  take  sides  with  them  against  the  unmor- 
ality  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  Cultus.  It  is,  nevertheless,  a 
profound  mistake  not  to  value  that  Cultus.  Without  it  there 
had  been  nothing  to  protest  against.  It  was  the  establish- 
ment, the  crystallized  experience,  the  holding,  stabilizing 
force,  which  unified  and  centralized  the  national  life.  If  it 
taught  the  wrong  things,  it  taught  something.  If  it  resisted 
change,  it  was  at  least  a  power  of  resistance.  It  made  of 
the  people  of  Israel  a  powerful  nation  and  did  not  leave 
them  in  the  half-barbarous  life  of  contending  tribesmen. 
So  always,  if  every  historic  Cultus  has  been  chargeable  with 
formalism  and  conservatism,  it  has  also  been  chargeable 
with  unification,  cohesion,  racial  integration,  and  national 
survival. 

Becoming  is  nothing  if  there  is  no  Being  behind  it.  The 
Cultus  is  the  perennial  Background  of  Change. 

There  is  another  fact  of  current  life  which  needs  notice 
in  this  connection.  If  our  churches  are  in  these  days  under- 
interested  in  anything  that  might  properly  be  called  a 
Cultus,  preferring  rather  everything  that  has  to  do  with  the 
timely  issues  of  practical  life,  this  condition  is  vaguely  un- 
satisfactory to  the  flower  of  our  youth. 

If  the  young  are  the  great  adventurers  into  the  unknown 
and  untried  paths  of  the  new,  they  are  also  generally  occu- 
pied with  the  discovery  of  the  precious  treasures  in  the 
inherited  culture  of  civilized  life.  Without  exactly  knowing 
it,  they  come  back  from  college  and  find  the  churches  lack- 
ing in  culture.  They  are  offended  at  the  crudity  of  the 
speech,  manners,  and  forms  of  religious  life.  Having  found 
delight  in  the  artistic  and  literary  deposit  as  opened  up  to 
them  in  the  schools,  they  find  no  comparable  satisfactions 
in  the  religious  world. 

If  the  schools  have  failed  to  give  them  this  delight,  then 
the  schools  have  failed.  If  they  have  succeeded,  it  is  a  loss 
to  the  society  of  the  time  if  that  early  prompting  to  culture 
is  submerged  and  inhibited  in  the  practical  world.  Or,  if  it 
is  not  lost,  it  turns  for  sustenance  away  from  the  churches 
to  theaters,  or  clubs  and  other  secular  centers  of  the  culti- 
vated life.  I  have  failed  to  be  clear  at  all,  if  it  is  not  by  this 

.76. 


A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

time  apparent  that  Cultus  and  Culture  have  deeper  con- 
nections than  a  common  derivative  root  word. 

Eighthly^  a  modern  Cultus  is  possible.  We  have  perhaps 
too  easily  assumed  that  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  devise  any- 
thing in  ritual  comparable  to  the  great  systems  of  Cultus  in 
times  past.  We  think  we  are  not  sufficiently  naive,  that  we 
are  too  introspective  and  analytical  and  unchildlike  to  share 
the  pageantry  of  a  great  celebration.  Our  enactments  are 
dramatic  and  not  ritualistic.  We  look  upon  pageants  rather 
than  ourselves  participating  in  the  original  primary  human 
actions  of  which  pageants  are  only  the  pale  representations. 

Nevertheless,  I  should  like  to  have  walked  in  the  Pan- 
athenaic  Procession.  I  should  like  to  have  made  the  dev- 
otees' progress  through  the  great  pylons  from  lower  and 
larger  court  to  higher  and  smaller  court,  and  on  so  far  as 
I  could  go  toward  the  last  and  inmost  shrine  of  such  a 
temple  as  that  of  Medhinet  Habu.  Certainly  it  appears  dif- 
ficult to  conceive  of  man,  thoroughly  modernized,  as  ever 
again  capable  of  enjoying  the  breathless  delay  and  anxious 
expectancy  with  which  the  reappearance  of  the  high  priest 
on  the  great  Day  of  Atonement  was  awaited  by  those  who 
stood  in  the  court  of  Israel  celebrating  their  most  solemn 
sanctification  and  renewal. 

We  seem  to  be  incapable  of  so  keen  a  feeling  as  the 
hazard  of  life,  the  danger  of  divinity,  or  the  peril  of  godless- 
ness.  We  enjoy  these  things  onl}^  in  reproductions  of  the 
drama  or  of  the  imagination.  Yet  I  am  not  content  with 
Miss  Jane  Harrison,  unless  I  misread  her,  to  describe  the 
history  of  these  things  as  the  story  of  the  perennial  neces- 
sity for  ritual  to  become  merely  art.  Is  there  no  way  to  com- 
plete the  circle  by  utilizing  the  arts  to  bring  us  again  to 
hours  of  noble  worship?  Despite  the  fact  that  we  may  be  no 
longer  childlike,  that  we  seem  to  be  such  inveterate  self- 
observers,  I  believe  it  to  be  possible  to  proceed  in  the  direc- 
tion of  a  genuine  Cultus. 

But  we  must  begin  very  humbly  and  simply.  It  is  easy  to 
become  artificial  and  bizarre.  There  are  three  open  oppor- 
tunities for  improvement  and  growth. 

Quietly  and  naturally  we  can  improve  our  ordinary  pub- 

'11' 


Art  &  Religion 

lie  worship  in  many  ways — by  simpler,  nobler,  and  more 
beautiful  church  buildings;  by  altogether  more  pertinent 
and  better  disposed  religious  music;  by  high  points  of  stimu- 
lus in  the  placing  of  a  painting,  a  window,  or  a  statue  if  we 
can  afford  it;  by  a  more  unified  and  climactic  order  of  ser- 
vice ;  by  patient  attention  at  many  little  points  in  the  admin- 
istration of  the  sacraments ;  by  better  prepared  prayers ;  and 
by  more  instruction  for  securing  spiritual  effort  and  reverent 
expectancy  on  the  part  of  the  people. 

Another  opportunity  is  that  of  making  the  most  of  special 
occasions.  In  almost  every  church  and  community  through 
the  years,  there  are  occasions  and  days  which  can  be 
more  effectively  celebrated,  special  union  services  between 
churches,  community  recitals,  community  discussions,  pa- 
triotic meetings,  festivals  of  the  church  year,  and  other  such 
like.  These  will  afford  many  a  chance  for  some  simple  com- 
mon recital,  mutual  avowal,  or  even  dramatic  representa- 
tion. 

In  this  connection,  we  should  much  more  frequently  call 
upon  musicians  and  composers  for  especially  prepared 
works.  The  organist  of  a  great  city  church  should  be  capable 
of  preparing  fresh  music  of  his  own  writing  for  responsive 
services  at  the  Christmas,  Lenten,  Easter,  and  other  seasons, 
for  memorial  or  dedication  exercises,  services  in  which  some 
of  the  great  themes  and  experiences  of  the  spiritual  life 
might  be  set  forth  with  moving  power  by  the  combination 
of  all  the  arts.  We  are  undoubtedly  entering  upon  a  kind  of 
life  in  which  the  community  consciousness  will  play  a  great 
part  and  demand  its  appropriate  and  adequate  expression  by 
these  means. 

In  addition  to  these,  there  should  be  many  more  experi- 
ments and  efforts  in  the  way  of  small  groups  and  classes 
gathered  for  the  culture  of  the  spiritual  life,  such  as  Mrs. 
Porter's  Discussion  Clubs  in  New  Haven.  Perhaps  we 
should  all  copy  and  extend  the  Methodist  class  meeting 
system.  Special  services  for  the  unwell  and  the  tired  may 
be  held  in  churches  strong  enough  to  provide  a  varied  min- 
istry. There  should  be  week-day  hours  of  prayer  in  the  open 
church.   Our  larger   and   better   Protestant   churches   have 

.78. 


'to*- 


..-^-J"^ 

1 

r,- 

t"    r  . 

y  ■     ^- 

\ 

Kixr-''^-' 


CARVED  OAK  TRIPTYCH 


'The  Supper  at  Emmaus,"  for  Emmanuel  Church,  Baltimore,  Maryland. 
Waldemar  H.  Ritter,  Architect;  I.  Kirchmayer,  Sculptor. 


A  Brief  for  the  Cultus 

already  revived  the  older  custom  of  keeping  the  church 
building  open  and  ready  for  meditation  and  prayer  all  the 
days  of  the  week.  This  will  be  greatly  extended  in  the  early 
future. 

Moreover,  there  is  need  for  a  new  prayer  book.  The  modern 
cults  with  their  manuals  of  private  spiritual  exercise  and 
devotion  have  not  made  great  inroads  upon  the  bodies  of 
Christians  furnished  with  a  book  of  prayers.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  soon  some  group  of  gifted  and  progressive  leaders  will 
begin  the  preparation  of  a  Christian's  Book  of  Devotion, 
which  will  contain  a  modern  guide  to  Bible  reading,  a  col- 
lection of  prayers  new  and  old,  and  perhaps  other  material. 
Meanwhile  every  family  may  be  urged  to  possess  a  copy  of 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer;  or  "Prayers,  Ancient  and 
Modern,"  selected  by  Mary  Tileston;  or  some  other  collec- 
tion of  prayers  and  proposals  for  meditation. 

These  suggestions  by  no  means  exhaust  the  possibilities. 
They  are  merely  intended  to  intimate  some  simple  and  for 
the  most  part  modest  ways  in  which  it  is  possible  to  begin  an 
extended  revival  of  the  culture  of  religion.  Let  anyone 
utilize  them  all,  and  he  will  have  a  noble  Cultus  already. 
Whatever  else  hereafter  may  be,  no  one  can  tell.  The  temper 
of  the  new  age  will  be  far  different  from  that  just  past.  It 
will  find  itself  and  express  itself  according  to  its  own  genius. 
But  there  are  already  many  signs,  unless  we  fall  backward 
into  discordant  and  chaotic  life  generally,  that  the  new  age 
will  seek  to  cultivate  its  ideals  and  hopes  in  more  brilliant 
forms  than  we  now  use,  and  inculcate  its  standards  by  a 
more  effective  mode  of  religious  education,  and  devote  itself 
to  enjoying  the  "history  of  the  human  spirit"  and  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Divine  Spirit  by  usages  and  forms  that  will 
constitute  a  great  historic  Cultus. 


81. 


Chapter  IX :  Prophet  and  Priest  ' 

TrIE  conflict  between  priest  and  prophet  is  as  old  as  ; 
history  and  it  is  not  yet  settled.  Priests  and  prophets  ! 
are  always  at  odds.  They  always  have  been  and  | 
they  are  now.  \ 
Priests  have  always  stood  for  order  and  stability,  the  | 
maintenance  of  things  as  they  are;  prophets  have  always  ' 
produced  disorder  and  change  and  hoped  for  things  as  they  j 
should  be.  Priests  are  conservers  and  instructors;  prophets  j 
are  radicals  and  destructors.  ■ 
The  conflict  goes  on  because  we  have  not  yet  learned  to  j 
conserve  the  ancient  and  at  the  same  time  take  on  the  new;  \ 
we  have  as  yet  failed  to  solve  the  dilemma  of  stability  and  ; 
progress.  We  think  we  believe  in  progress,  but  usually  resent  ' 
it  when  we  see  it,  for  it  always  hits  us  at  the  sorest  spot,  it 
always  strikes  where  we  least  expect.  We  assume  that  we  j 
have  an  open  ear  to  new  teaching,  but  when  it  comes,  we  i 
cry  out  in  dismay:  Oh,  yes,  I  believe  in  progress,  but  I  had  ! 
no  idea  you  meant  that.  I  can't  accept  that.  We  go  on  to  ! 
complain  of  the  new  doctrine:  Why,  that  subverts  every-  ' 
thing.  Where  are  we,  anyway,  if  that  is  adopted?  But  that 
is  precisely  what  prophecy  is,  some  new  doctrine  that  is  ' 
strong  enough  to  subvert  everything.  i 
There  was  in  an  ancient  day  a  priest  by  the  name  of  j 
Amaziah  at  the  famous  sanctuary  of  Bethel.  His  king  and  i 
patron,  Jeroboam  II,  was  strong  and  successful.  Commerce  I 
was  good,  the  arts  of  life  were  advanced,  religious  observ- 
ance was  popular  and  elaborate.  Amaziah  conducted  the  I 
burnt  offerings  and  peace  offerings,  taught  the  children  to  1 
observe  the  fast  days,  instructed  the  people  in  the  moral  f 
law,  and  passed  to  and  fro  in  the  solemn  assemblies.  He  was  j 
evidently  a  faithful  priest.  Then  along  came  Amos  the  | 
prophet  and  criticised  everything.  He  said  that  the  poor  were 
being  oppressed  and  the  needy  exploited  and  that  the  women 

•82. 


Prophet  and  Priest 

were  too  luxurious.  Moreover,  he  claimed  that  the  Lord 
had  no  delight  in  their  priestly  offerings,  anyway,  and  would 
not  smell  in  their  solemn  assemblies.  Yea,  rather,  for  all 
their  sins  the  Lord  would  destroy  the  house  of  Jeroboam  and 
lay  waste  the  land.  This  was  more  than  Amaziah  could  en- 
dure, so  he  "sent  to  Jeroboam  king  of  Israel,  saying,  Amos 
hath  conspired  against  thee  in  the  midst  of  the  house  of 
Israel :  the  land  is  not  able  to  bear  all  his  words.  Also, 
Amaziah  said  unto  Amos,  O  thou  seer,  go,  flee  thee  away 
into  the  land  of  Judah,  and  there  eat  bread,  and  prophesy 
there:  but  prophesy  not  again  any  more  at  Bethel:  for  it  is 
the  king's  chapel,  and  it  is  the  king's  court."  To  this  Amos 
replied  that  the  Lord  had  sent  him  and  proceeded  with  his 
denunciation. 

This  story  is  a  typical  picture  of  prophecy  and  its  obstruc- 
tion by  the  priesthood.  The  priest  teaches  personal  and  indi- 
vidual matters;  the  prophet  carries  these  up  to  some  na- 
tional or  universal  view  for  fresh  examination  and  revision. 
The  priest  seeks  the  prevalence  and  power  of  present  morals 
and  customs  as  they  are  maintained  by  rites  and  forms ;  the 
prophet  breaks  present  forms  to  lay  foundations  for  a  better 
morality  that  shall  be.  The  priest  relies  on  some  ancient 
sanction  for  his  sacred  authority;  the  prophet  claims  the 
authority  of  immediate  inspiration. 

It  is  a  small  and  inadequate  conception  of  the  prophet  to 
regard  him  as  one  who  foretells  events.  The  true  prophet 
is  not  concerned  with  foretelling  events,  but  with  foretelling 
the  destiny  of  the  new  view  of  life  which  he  has  received. 
The  true  prophet  receives  the  divine  inspiration  of  some 
great  new  truth,  some  new  way  of  looking  at  life.  Thence- 
forth life  as  it  is  appears  wrong  to  him;  he  criticises  and 
condemns  it.  He  does  not  know  future  events.  But  what  he 
does  know  is  that  somewhere,  sometime,  all  things,  govern- 
ment and  commerce,  morals  public  and  private,  must  come 
round  to  his  idea,  must  square  themselves  with  his  new  truth. 
He  throws  his  word  into  the  stream  of  history  and  lets  it 
work.  This  is  what  Elijah  did,  and  Amos  and  Jesus,  Luther 
and  Wendell  Phillips. 

We  have  thought  of  prophets  as  religious  leaders  whose 

•  83- 


Art  &  Religion 

inspiration  was  acknowledged  and  whose  word  was  received. 
This  is  because  we  look  back  so  far  on  the  most  of  them, 
and  also  because  it  is  hard  to  believe  they  have  anything  in 
common  with  us  nowadays.  The  fact  is  that,  at  the  time,  the 
prophet  is  almost  always  unpopular  and  rejected.  The  New 
Testament  honors  the  Old  Testament  prophets,  but  in  their 
own  days  the  Old  Testament  prophets  were  not  so  honored. 
Jesus  often  thought  of  himself  as  a  prophet  and  had  the 
usual  prophetic  experience — "A  prophet  is  not  without 
honor,  save  in  his  own  country."  And  out  of  his  own  bitter 
experience  of  rejection  he  thought  of  the  prophets  of  old 
as  he  wept  over  the  great  city,  "Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou 
that  killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  which  are  sent 
unto  thee." 

Priests  are  teachers  of  the  laws  of  life  as  they  are  received, 
upholders  of  the  current  customs  and  practices,  mainstaying 
traditions,  conservative  because  their  business  is  to  conserve 
the  good  that  men  already  have.  They  are  therefore  none 
too  friendly  to  prophets  who  protest  and  oppose  tradition, 
who  try  to  break  down  forms  in  the  name  of  inner  and 
spiritual  light.  The  appearance  of  the  prophet  has  always 
troubled  the  priest.  What  shall  he  do"?  If  the  prophet  begins 
to  gain  popular  support  the  priest  declares  that  he  is  crazy. 
This  has  often  been  done  and  is  not  unlike  the  suggestion 
which  President  Hadley  says  that  "hard-headed  business 
men  make  regarding  poets,  professors  and  other  idealists 
'That  they  have  a  bee  in  their  bonnets.'  "  If  this  ridicule 
does  not  succeed,  the  prophet  is  persecuted.  Amaziah  the 
priest  ordered  Amos  out  of  Bethel;  Isaiah  probably  died  a 
martyr  to  his  prophetic  truth;  Jeremiah  was  tried  for  his 
life  in  the  royal  court  in  Jerusalem;  Socrates  was  poisoned; 
John  Huss  was  burned  alive;  Luther  was  hounded  and 
excommunicated;  and  more  than  one  professor  has  been 
driven  from  his  university  chair.  Yet  the  word  of  true 
prophets  has  prevailed  and  is  prevailing.  People  are  always 
looking  back  to  old  prophets  to  honor  those  that  are  dead, 
and  failing  to  see  the  live  ones  present  with  them. 

And  yet — there  is  something  to  say  for  the  priest.  If  the 
true  prophet  often  suifers  persecution  and  martyrdom,  he 

•  84- 


Prophet  and  Priest 

usually  receives,  at  last,  superior  honors.  The  priest  is  never 
likely  to  receive  either.  When  the  prophetical  storm  has 
passed  and  the  church  and  state  are  strewn  with  wreckage, 
the  priest  must  take  up  the  slow,  hard  work  of  reconstruc- 
tion; he  must  gather  up  the  fragments  of  old  and  new  and 
make  a  practical  building.  When  the  final  issue  of  anti- 
slavery  prophecy  had  been  settled  by  the  Civil  War,  there 
remained  the  wreckage  of  the  old  South,  and  long  pains  of 
reconstruction  were  necessary  before  the  new  South  began 
to  appear.  When  the  great  prophets  of  the  Reformation 
pulled  down  the  whole  structure  of  the  mediaeval  church  in 
several  nations,  someone  had  to  go  to  work  to  build  another 
structure  that  would  preserve  the  results  and  pass  them  on 
to  other  generations.  This  has  proved  to  be  so  hard  a  task 
that  the  priests  of  Protestantism  have  not  yet  devised  as 
good  a  system  for  conserving  sanctions  and  standards  as  the 
old  one  was. 

The  work  of  the  priest  is  a  difficult  one.  He  must  take  the 
new  truths  of  the  prophet  and  the  great  general  principles 
laid  down  and  he  must  study  and  apply  them  to  particular 
conduct.  He  must  tell  people  just  what  the  great  principle 
means  in  their  homes,  in  their  work,  and  in  personal  morals. 
He  must  say  what  is  right  and  wrong  in  each  special  instance 
in  such  a  way  as  to  induce  general  agreement.  The  prophet 
disintegrates  old  standards;  the  priest  must  integrate  new 
ones;  and  that  is  a  very  hard  thing  to  do.  It  is  disastrous 
to  life  to  be  all  the  while  in  a  prophetic  whirlwind.  Society 
needs  a  hundred  years  or  so  of  quietness  and  stability  to 
make  civilization  possible. 

The  Priest  is  a  Teacher.  But  how  shall  he  teach  the 
youth,  if  there  be  no  general  agreement  about  right  and 
wrong  which  can  be  conserved  and  maintained  for  a  season  *? 
How  shall  he  instruct  if  there  be  no  structure  to  put  in*? 
How  shall  childhood  be  guided  and  builded  up  into  the 
right  if  you  cannot  say:  This  is  the  truth  accepted  among 
us,  these  are  the  standards  society  holds,  this  is  the  way  you 
should  go,  walk  ye  in  it?  The  priest  is  not  therefore  to  be  too 
seriously  blamed  for  becoming  a  dogmatist.  This  is  the  func- 
tion we  have  assigned  him.  He  must  integrate  and  construct, 

•85- 


Art  &  Religion 

collect  and  sort  and  arrange  his  materials,  and  build  a  habit- 
able house  of  truth.  He  can,  of  course,  do  much  more  than 
priests  ever  have  done  to  prevent  the  tyranny  of  old  dogmas. 
He  can  say  at  the  end  of  every  list  of  standards  or  ideals: 
Moreover,  it  is  one  of  the  tenets  of  our  system  to  be  always 
expecting  change  and  always  working  for  progress ;  it  is  one 
of  the  articles  of  our  faith  to  make  earnest  with  the  doctrine 
of  the  continued  revelations  of  the  divine  Spirit.  This,  too, 
is  a  dogma,  but  one  that  turns  the  flank  of  the  dilemma  of 
prophet  and  priest. 

Yet  the  solution  is  easier  in  theory  than  in  practice. 
Protestant  ministers  are  expected  to  be  both  priest  and 
prophet,  but  few  succeed.  Many  are  greatly  to  be  blamed 
for  becoming  no  less  priestly,  dogmatic,  and  crystallized 
than  the  Catholic  type.  Others  have  become  so  individualis- 
tic and  prophetic  as  gravely  to  threaten  the  whole  stability 
of  Protestantism.  Witness  the  independent  movements  of 
theater  and  hall  in  every  large  city,  the  prevalence  of  timely 
topics  in  innumerable  pulpits,  the  many  popular  preachers 
who  center  attention  and  devotion  upon  themselves  to  the 
weakening  of  the  institution,  and,  in  general,  the  failure  to 
recognize  the  priestly  element  in  the  function  of  the  modem 
clergyman.  It  is  not  for  social  reformers  and  zealots  to  be 
too  severe  in  their  condemnation  of  men  who  know  what 
they  are  doing  and  why,  when  they  hold  steadily  to  their 
humble  priestly  task  of  teaching  the  youth  standards  and 
ideals  as  they  are,  while  waiting  for  the  prophets  to  agree 
among  themselves  about  the  faiths  and  works  that  are  next 
to  engage  human  devotion  and  energy. 

The  Priest  is  a  Spiritual  Adviser.  As  such,  he  has  to  do 
not  so  much  with  those  timely  and  social  questions  which  are 
the  interest  of  the  prophet  as  with  the  timeless  concerns  of 
the  individual  life  which  are  essentially  the  same  whether 
the  person  live  here  or  in  Mars,  in  one  age  or  another — 
birth,  death,  and  the  beating  sun,  and  the  arts  of  gracious 
living.  With  what  spirit  and  fortitude  shall  a  man  be  pre- 
pared to  meet  loss  and  defeat,  sickness  and  death,  and  every 
evil  hour?  With  what  spiritual  mastery  shall  a  man  control 

.86. 


Prophet  and  Priest 

the  experiences  of  temptation  and  success  and  richest  With 
what  faith  and  hope  shall  a  man  envision  his  destiny*? 

Admonition  and  exhortation,  comfort,  the  resolution  of 
doubt,  the  healing  of  the  inly  blind,  these  all  are  the  uses  of 
a  good  priest  and  true.  He  is  friend  and  fatherly  confessor, 
counselor,  guide,  and  man  of  God,  bringing  near  the  fresh 
peace  and  joy  of  the  timeless  and  eternal  world.  He  invites 
the  strong  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  in  his 
church  provides  them  a  definite  and  ever  ready  medium  for 
that  ministry,  varied,  adaptable,  and  permanent.  He  carries 
to  lonely,  sick,  and  sorrowing  persons  the  assurances  of  the 
faith,  assurances,  believe  me,  out  of  my  own  humble  expe- 
rience, more  than  doubly  strong  because  not  merely  his  own 
and  personal  but  rather  of  his  office,  representing  the  strong 
body  of  believers  and  loyal  workers  behind  him  and  around 
him  in  the  church,  whose  servant  he  is,  of  whose  word  and 
faith  he  is  but  the  mouthpiece:  assurances  received  also  be- 
cause conveyed  by  one  set  apart  to  ponder  holy  things  and 
pray  for  all  souls.  This  makes  very  respectable  the  quiet 
men  who  prefer  to  give  themselves  to  this  sacred  calling 
rather  than  to  become  sensational  preachers  or  meddling 
politicians. 

The  Priest  is  a  Pastor  and  Bishop.  He  is  a  shepherd  and 
overseer,  keeping  watch  and  ward  of  the  flock  committed 
to  his  care.  He  is  an  evangelist,  seeking  the  wandering  and 
the  weary.  His  business  is  the  cure  of  souls.  Always  at  the 
background  of  his  consciousness  is  concern  for  the  growth 
and  development  of  persons.  He  sees  others  as  they  cannot 
see  themselves  and  longs  to  help  them  correct  their  faults 
and  enlarge  their  ideals.  His  interest  is,  like  the  novelist's, 
in  his  characters ;  an  artistic  interest  not  in  what  a  man  does 
but  in  what  he  becomes,  not  in  what  he  accomplishes  but  in 
what  at  last  he  is.  But  his  interest  is  not  aloof  as  is  the  novel- 
ist's, for  it  is  sometimes  given  to  him  to  play,  not  fate,  but 
divinity  in  the  human  story  around  him.  More  often  than 
you  suppose,  a  minister  will  decide  some  practical  question, 
not  according  to  expediency  or  organizational  efficiency,  but 
according  to  the  yield  of  character  influence  upon  the  persons 
involved. 

•87- 


Art  &  Religion 

The  Priest  is  an  Artist.  He  is  charged  with  the  develop- 
ment and  maintenance  of  the  cultus,  the  offices  of  public 
worship,  marriage  and  burial,  and  the  administration  of 
sacraments.  He  addresses  not  the  mind  alone  but  the  feel- 
ings and  the  imagination.  He  uses  the  arts  of  speech  and  of 
ritual  to  aid  in  the  reproduction  of  spiritual  experience. 
With  the  problems  of  public  worship  other  chapters  are 
concerned.  Here  may  well  come  in  a  word  respecting  the 
more  private  functions  of  the  priest  as  artist,  as  on  the  occa- 
sions of  marriage  and  burial. 

A  ceremony  of  the  priest  is  precisely  like  a  poem  or  other 
work  of  art  in  that  it  enables  us  to  say  to  each  other  what 
we  should  otherwise  leave  unsaid  or  conceal.  One  of  my 
friends  who  sent  his  only  son  to  the  war  has  written  a  little 
book  of  very  beautiful  sonnets  setting  forth  some  of  the 
noblest  feelings  and  faiths  I  have  seen  expressed.  He  would 
hardly  bring  himself  to  say  baldly  and  nakedly  in  bare  prose 
and  open  statement  what  he  has  told  in  the  poems.  He 
would  feel  an  immodesty  in  such  an  utter  exposure  of  his 
deepest  heart.  The  form  of  the  verse  is  a  cloak  partly  con- 
cealing the  passion  beneath,  yet  enabling  its  release  and 
expression.  So  are  we  all  reticent,  bearing  in  silence  what  we 
cannot  speak  save  with  tears,  not  wishing  to  wear  our  hearts 
upon  our  sleeves.  The  ceremony  speaks  for  us.  We  cannot 
utter  all  or  a  part  of  that  majesty  of  respect  we  feel  for  a 
human  life  that  has  left  its  house  of  clay,  or  that  solicitude 
and  love  with  which  we  would  follow  lives  newly  wedded, 
nor  can  we  willingly  keep  silence.  The  ceremony  speaks  for 
us,  its  cloak  of  form  at  once  concealing  and  expressing  our 
inner  passion. 

So,  also,  every  other  cultural  exercise  of  religion  is  a  work 
of  art  and  the  priest  is  an  artist,  not  only  in  presentation 
like  the  actor  and  singer,  but  in  origination  and  creation  as 
sculptor  and  composer.  His  work  should  be  approached  with 
the  same  canons  of  appreciation  as  that  of  other  artists  nor 
should  there  be  anything  falsely  sacrosanct  about  him  to 
ward  off  judgment  on  the  success  or  failure  of  his  artistry. 

All  these  things  may  be  regarded  as  priestly  functions 
without  any  claim  to  peculiar  power  or  authority,  and  with- 

•  88. 


Prophet  and  Priest 

out  any  denial  of  the  typical  Protestant  doctrine  of  the 
priesthood  of  all  believers.  They  might  perhaps  as  well  be 
defined  under  the  terms  pastor  or  minister.  But  they  are 
certainly  not  prophetic  functions.  The  term  minister  in  its 
specific  meaning  includes  the  prophetic.  I  do  not  favor  the 
official  designation  ot  the  clergyman  as  priest.,  pleading  only 
a  more  general  popular  sense  of  the  labors,  responsibilities, 
and  values  suggested  by  that  name. 

The  pastor  of  a  modern  church  must  be  jealous  of  his 
work  and  word  as  a  prophet,  a  severe  and  perilous  calling. 
It  is  disastrous  for  religion  if  the  voices  for  social  justice, 
the  prophetic  demands  for  righteousness  in  all  departments 
of  life,  be  found  chiefly  outside  rather  than  inside  the  insti- 
tution of  religion,  and  we  are,  alas,  close  to  this  disaster. 
Yet  some  of  these  voices  are  not  worthy  of  attention  when 
they  lightly  estimate  the  quiet,  patient,  and  regular  work  of 
those  who  aid  in  the  maintenance  of  public  order  and 
morale  through  established  institutions.  It  is  always  easier 
to  stand  off  and  criticise  than  to  share  the  long  labor  of 
successful  moral  integration,  construction,  and  conservation. 
It  would  be  a  profound  benefit  to  society  if  there  might 
develop  among  prophets  outside  and  inside  the  church,  lay- 
men and  artists  and  ministers  and  all,  a  fuller  appreciation 
of  the  worth  of  such  priestly  functions  as  I  have  merely 
sketched. 

Part  of  the  failure  of  the  ministry  is  not  its  own,  but  the 
excessive  demands  upon  the  thought  and  labor  of  a  single 
person.  It  is  enough  to  be  a  good  priest.  Why  expect  the 
minister  to  be  also  several  other  things'?  He  himself  will 
wish  sometimes  to  speak  as  a  prophet,  a  prophet  of  the  most 
high  God,  but  his  usual  and  daily  labor  is  that  of  a  priest, 
not  a  worker  of  magic  nor  a  monger  of  breaking  authority, 
but  a  priest  after  the  order  of  the  endless  life. 


89 


Chapter  X :  The  Artist  as  Prophet 

ONE  of  the  most  important  objections  to  the  greater 
development  of  the  arts  on  the  part  of  religion  is 
the  alleged  conservative  character  of  art.  Forms  are 
fixed.  They  perpetuate  the  ideas  which  fashion  them.  They 
conserve  the  traditions  prevalent  at  the  time  of  their  crea- 
tion. They  maintain  in  human  life,  by  the  power  of  their 
beauty,  faiths  and  ideals  that  otherwise  would  be  discarded. 

There  is  much  evidence  in  support  of  this  objection.  It  is 
questionable  whether  mediaeval  religion  would  still  be  so 
prevalent  in  many  nations  were  it  not  for  the  vast  and  im- 
pressive character  of  the  mediaeval  church  buildings.  Rituals 
and  liturgies  tend  to  be  continued  in  use,  however  archaic 
in  style,  resisting  change  long  after  innumerable  changes  are 
demanded  on  the  part  of  progressive  spiritual  experience. 

Before  coming  to  the  main  suggestion  in  reply  to  this 
objection,  it  is  worth  noting  that  there  is  something  good  as 
well  as  something  unfortunate  about  this  conserving  power 
of  the  arts.  Many  good  things  of  the  past  are  worth  con- 
serving. Human  nature  and  human  experience  do  not  so 
profoundly  change  in  the  course  of  a  thousand  years  as  to 
invalidate  all  the  elder  insights.  The  religious  culture  of  the 
future  will  ever  be  enriched  by  the  spiritual  values  of  the 
Bible  and  also  by  other  expressions  of  the  spiritual  life  in 
various  older  and  later  times.  Many  of  the  prayers  in  the 
Anglican  Collect  are  derived  from  the  older  liturgies.  They 
belong  to  us  all.  They  give  voice  to  perennial  needs  of  the 
human  heart  and  to  many  of  the  permanent  values  of  spir- 
itual experience.  In  these  times  of  superficial  culture,  it  is 
more  than  ever  worth  while  to  be  surrounded  by  something 
that  is  memorial  of  the  august  life  of  the  past.  There  is  a 
conservatism  not  narrowing  in  its  effects  but  broadening. 
The  tendency  of  religious  art  to  perpetuate  the  force  and 

•  90- 


The  Artist  as  Prophet 

prevalence  of  the  faiths  of  the  past  is  very  far  from  being 
unfortunate. 

There  is  another  tendency  of  art  and  of  the  artist,  how- 
ever, which  in  the  long  run  is  a  more  sufficient  force  to 
counteract  any  losses  ascribed  to  the  conservative  character 
of  the  arts.  The  artist  is  a  prophet  in  his  own  right  no  less 
than  are  other  innovators.  There  are  two  ways  in  which  this 
is  true.  Artists  are  not  only  constantly  saying  new  things 
or  devising  new  forms,  but  they  have,  in  the  past,  many 
times  expressed  by  their  manner  something  different  from 
the  subject  matter  of  their  work. 

First,  the  artist  is  one  who  sees  things  that  other  men 
ignore.  If  he  expresses  what  he  desires  to  express,  it  is  always 
some  fresh  way  of  looking  at  things.  He  is  always  adding  to 
the  world  of  created  beauty.  Standing  apart  from  practical 
life,  at  least  imaginatively,  he  is  little  hindered  by  the 
prejudices  and  concerns  of  the  ordinary  man.  He  is  not  him- 
self in  the  "game."  Sitting  as  a  spectator,  his  eyes  are  clear 
of  the  dust  and  passion  of  the  struggle. 

I  am  keenly  conscious  of  a  great  difficulty  here.  There  is 
much  bad  art  in  the  world  because  of  this  separation  on  the 
part  of  artists.  Perhaps  there  is  no  moral  evil  greater  than 
that  of  looking  upon  life  as  a  spectacle.  It  is  contempt  of 
persons.  Every  artist  is  in  constant  danger  of  this  evil  point 
of  view.  As  a  man  and  citizen  he  is  required  to  be  a  man 
among  men.  As  an  artist  he  is  required  to  stand  apart  and 
to  be  an  onlooker.  I  believe  that  it  makes  a  profound  dif- 
ference as  to  which  is  the  real  self  of  the  artist  and  which 
is  his  assumed  dramatic  role.  If  his  real  self  is  the  spectator, 
and  he  merely  makes  dramatic  excursions  into  real  life,  I 
think  his  art  will  be  bad  art.  If  his  real  self  is  man  and 
citizen,  and  he  makes  the  supremely  dramatic  effort  of 
imaginative  withdrawal,  I  think  his  art  will  be  good  art. 

In  any  case,  whether  the  aloofness  be  real  or  assumed, 
it  must  be  in  some  profound  sense  real  for  the  purposes  of 
good  artistry.  It  must  be  a  genuine  attempt  to  see  more 
things  and  to  see  them  differently  than  they  are  seen  during 
the  actions  of  common  life.  As  already  suggested  in  another 
chapter,  this  is  why  the  artist  has  always  been  accused  of 

.91. 


Art  &  Religion 

lawlessness.  And  this  is  why  there  is  no  need  for  liberals  to 
be  afraid  of  him.  The  historic  freshness  of  art  is  a  great  fact, 
as  well  as  the  historic  conserving  power  of  the  arts.  Mr. 
Bertrand  Russell  says  that  "art  springs  from  a  wild  and 
anarchic  side  of  human  nature;  between  the  artist  and 
bureaucrat  there  must  always  be  a  profound  antagonism." 

The  artist  is  almost  always  a  prophet  of  change,  being 
dissatisfied  with  the  world  of  ugly  facts,  loving  the  more 
romantic  world  that  is  potentially  beautiful.  It  has  been  a 
matter  of  frequent  observation  among  critics  that  great 
artists  have  oftentimes  anticipated  by  the  reach  of  their 
imaginative  intuitions,  points  of  view  later  conceived  or 
confirmed  in  science  or  politics. 

Secondly,  the  artist  early  began  to  depict  things  for  their 
own  worth  rather  than  for  the  purposes  of  his  patron,  the 
religionist.  His  subject  matter  immemorially  has  been  the 
succession  of  divinities  and  saints  to  be  represented  by 
statues  and  paintings,  to  convey  the  faiths  of  religion.  But 
from  very  ancient  days,  the  artist  seemed  to  peep  out  from 
behind  his  subject  matter.  He  has  spoken  his  own  independ- 
ent word,  proclaiming  by  his  lines  and  colors  a  message  of 
his  own,  sometimes  even  contradicting  the  subject  matter  of 
his  work.  One  or  two  allusions  will  illustrate  the  point. 

The  earlier  wall  relief  drawings  amongst  the  Egyptian 
antiquities  are  vigorous,  simple,  childlike,  unsophisticated 
pictures.  It  is  hard  to  discover  in  them — as,  for  example,  in 
the  tombs  of  Sakkara — much  of  any  separate  feeling  for 
beauty  on  the  part  of  the  artist.  But  the  later  works  of  the 
imperial  age  are  very  different.  Such  wall  reliefs  as  those  of 
the  Temple  of  Seti  at  Abydos  are  religious  in  theme,  and 
strictly  religious  in  the  conventional  treatment  of  the  figures, 
but  they  reveal  highly  self-conscious  canons  of  artistry  on 
the  part  of  the  designer.  Despite  the  subject  matter  and 
despite  formal  requirements  as  to  its  treatment,  there  is  a 
lyrical  feeling  about  lines,  and  a  very  advanced  concep- 
tion of  composition  which  conveys  to  us  across  these  many 
centuries  the  artist's  separate  satisfaction  in  pure  beauty. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  draw  any  other  conclusion  from 
the  skill  with  which  the  artist  has  elaborated  the  various 

.92. 


The  Artist  as  Prophet 

borders  about  his  space  and  utilized  repetitive  forms  to  make 
a  successful  decoration.  The  walls  are  very  beautiful  in 
themselves  as  decorated  surfaces. 

The  same  tendency  is  amply  displayed  by  the  Greeks. 
Perhaps,  at  the  highest  point,  form  and  content  are  so  unified 
that  there  is  no  suggestion  of  the  matter  we  are  here  discuss- 
ing. But  it  is  scarcely  conceivable  that  Praxiteles  was  as 
much  interested  in  representing  the  god  Hermes  as  in  repre- 
senting an  ideal  man.  At  least,  so  the  great  statue  at  Olym- 
pia  appears  to  me. 

The  same  is  true  of  many  of  the  great  works  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance.  Even  very  early  the  separate  impulse 
of  the  artist  was  manifested.  For  example,  in  the  Crucifixion 
scene  on  Niccola  Pisano's  pulpit  at  Pisa,  the  figure  on  the 
cross  is  not  drawn  true  to  life,  but  gracefully,  as  though  to 
make  a  decoration.  So  also,  other  figures  in  the  bronze  panels 
by  the  same  artist  on  the  doors  of  the  Baptistery  in 
Florence. 

I  believe  that  the  greatest  art  is  that  in  which  form  and 
content  are  so  thoroughly  at  one  that  the  total  effect  is 
unified.  Artists  should  not  be  required  to  say  things  which 
they  do  not  themselves  believe.  The  history  of  their  work 
in  the  world  testifies  their  revolt  when  they  have  been  called 
upon  to  do  so. 

In  this  way,  the  artistic  work  of  many  times  and  places 
has  been  definitely  prophetic ;  that  is,  it  has  criticised  by  its 
own  independent  interest  in  life  and  the  beauty  of  life,  the 
particular  conceptions  of  the  religion  of  its  day.  The  sugges- 
tion I  am  trying  to  make  is  quite  precisely  stated  in  an 
address  of  J.  A.  Symonds  on  the  New  Spirit.  "Whatever 
the  subject  matter,  .  .  .  silent  and  unperceived,  art,  by  its 
naturalism,  sapped  orthodoxy  much  in  the  same  way  as 
scholarship,  by  its  rationalism,  was  serving  the  same  pur- 
pose.  "^ 

There  is,  therefore,  on  the  whole,  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
conservatism  of  the  artist.  His  conservatism  is  never  so 
objectionable  as  that  of  the  creedalist.  If  works  of  religious 
art  set  forth  the  conception  of  the  times,  so  do  creeds.  But 

*  Symonds,  "Last  and  First,"  p.  40. 

•93- 


Art  &  Religion 

when  creeds  are  gone  they  are  of  little  further  worth,  while 
the  artist's  formulation  contains  not  only  a  perpetual  mes- 
sage of  beauty  but  a  proper  conserving  memorial  of  the 
former  values.  I  seldom  read  the  Nicene  Creed  or  the  Heidel- 
berg Catechism,  but  very  frequently  get  pleasure  and  benefit 
from  an  excellent  copy  of  one  of  Bellini's  Madonnas  on  the 
wall  of  my  study.  Perhaps  the  artist  helps  as  much  as  any- 
one in  solving  the  ever  recurrent  dilemma  of  conservatism 
and  change.  He  represents  the  great  conceptions  of  faith  and 
preserves  them,  but  also  by  the  values  of  his  beautiful  form 
he  transcends  the  particular  ideas  intimated. 

There  is  a  permanence  about  any  work  of  beauty.  It  is 
ever  old  and  ever  new.  High  art  conserves  the  apprehensions 
of  the  elder  ages ;  by  it  we  have  communion  with  the  fathers. 
And  the  highest  art  never  fades.  It  is  always  second  sight, 
always  revealing,  with  true  prophetic  spirit,  that  things  are 
not  what  at  first  sight  they  appear  to  be. 


94- 


e 
^ 


^      <i  ? 


?^ 


'cq 


Chapter  XI :  Symbols  and  Sacraments 

THIE  artist  has  usually  used  one  of  two  methods.  He 
has  begun  with  an  idea  and  then  selected  some 
specific  object  to  represent  his  idea;  or  he  has  looked 
upon  an  object  in  such  a  way  as  to  see  its  ideal  significance. 
In  the  one  case  we  see  his  idea  objectified,  in  the  other  the 
object  idealized.  These  methods  are  Classicism  and  Roman- 
ticism in  the  history  of  the  arts.  In  religion,  they  are 
Symbolism  and  Sacramentalism. 

Almost  everyone  will  readily  think  of  examples  of  this 
fact.  A  mural  decoration  in  a  courthouse,  for  instance,  begins 
with  a  conception  of  the  majesty  of  the  law  and  portrays  the 
theme  by  a  series  of  figures  intended  to  symbolize  it.  Statues, 
paintings,  tableaux,  certain  novels,  certain  music,  or  other 
works  of  art  definitely  represent  "Justice,"  "Peace," 
"Autumn,"  "War,"  "History."  Such  works  are  Scopas' 
"Demeter,"  the  most  of  the  early  Italian  Madonnas, 
Breton's  "Gleaner,"  Puvis  de  Chavannes'  "Physics."  Other 
works  seem  not  to  have  been  conceived  in  this  generic  man- 
ner. They,  rather,  picture  some  specific  object,  call  our  notice 
to  the  object  that  we  may  look  upon  it  until  we  see  that  it  is 
infinitely  significant.  Such  objects  are  "The  Dying  Gaul," 
a  bowl  of  "Roses,"  "Gleaners,"  as  Millet  sees  them,  "Burgh- 
ers of  Calais,"  persons  in  the  "Spoon  River  Anthology." 

We  are  not  here  entering  a  fine  or  elaborate  discussion  of 
these  facts,  nor  attempting  to  catalog  the  arts.  Perhaps  innu- 
merable works  of  art  do  not  fall  under  either  of  these  cate- 
gories. We  are  not  here  discussing  decorative,  realistic,  lyri- 
cal, or  other  sorts  of  beauty.  But  a  very  large  part  of  all  the 
art  objects  of  the  world  have  been  fashioned  by  one  of  these 
two  processes.  In  the  one  case,  a  great  conception  of  universal 
range,  of  far  and  high  reality  or  import,  is  communicated  by 
near  and  specific  representation.  In  the  other  case,  the  seer 
asks  us  to  look  upon  a  near  and  familiar  object,  and  so  por- 

•  97  • 


Art  &  Religion 

trays  that  object  that  we,  too,  may  see  that  it  is  more  than 
it  seems  to  be,  investing  it  with  import  and  significance  high 
and  universal.  Browning's  "Fra  Lippo  Lippi"  describes  the 
effort  of  the  Italian  painter's  mind  to  change  from  one 
method  to  the  other. 

"Suppose  I've  made  her  eyes  all  right  and  blue, 
Can't  I  take  breath  and  try  to  add  life's  flesh. 
And  then  add  soul  and  heighten  them  threefold'? 
Or  say  there's  beauty  with  no  soul  at  all — 
(I  never  saw  it — put  the  case  the  same — ) 
If  you  get  simple  beauty  and  naught  else, 
You  get  about  the  best  thing  God  invents : 


But  why  not  paint  these 
Just  as  they  are,  careless  what  comes  of  it^ 
God's  works — paint  any  one,  and  count  it  crime 
To  let  a  truth  slip. 


How  much  more, 
If  I  drew  higher  things  with  the  same  truth  I 
That  were  to  take  the  Prior's  pulpit-place, 
Interpret  God  to  all  of  you !" 

Religion  has  always  used  and  must  always  use  both  of 
these  methods.  Symbolism  in  religion  is  of  the  nature  and  of 
the  perennial  need  of  the  classic  method  in  art.  The  person 
who  claims  to  have  no  interest  in  symbolism  talks  nonsense. 
He  cannot  read  the  morning  paper — for  every  word  is  a 
symbol.  He  could  not  sing  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner." 
Some  sort  of  symbolism  is  necessary  to  communication  of 
any  kind.  Heightened  and  pictorial  symbolism  is  necessary 
to  vivid  and  forceful  communication.  The  theater,  the  army, 
the  government,  the  commercial  world,  all  make  constant 
and  varied  use  of  symbols  to  remind  people  of  their  exist- 
ence and  character.  Religion  also  must  communicate  itself 
by  powerful  and  beautiful  symbols.  Even  those  who  do  not 
take  kindly  to  the  use  of  an  actual  wooden  cross  upon  an 

.98. 


Symbols  and  Sacraments 

altar  or  gable  of  a  church  readily  sing  "In  the  cross  of  Christ 
I  glory,"  and  "O  make  thy  church  a  lamp  of  burnished 
gold."  Christianity  is  represented  to  the  consciousness  of 
millions  of  people  by  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Should  Constan- 
tinople again  fall  under  the  governance  of  Christian  powers, 
it  will  be  symbolized  in  the  East  by  the  taking  down  of  the 
Crescent  from  the  ancient  church  of  Haggia  Sophia  and  the 
raising  of  the  Cross  upon  the  noble  dome.  Symbolism  is  not, 
of  course,  confined  to  the  instrumentality  of  physical  ob- 
jects, but  includes  also  the  use  of  great  symbolic  concep- 
tions. A  creed  is  not  the  faith  itself,  but  a  symbol  of  the 
faith.  In  his  religious  teaching,  in  his  attempt  to  make  God 
conceivable  and  real  and  near  to  ordinary  people,  Jesus  was 
constantly  using  the  symbol  of  Fatherhood.  The  inventor 
of  new  and  true  symbols  of  the  truth  is  a  great  benefactor. 

If  symbols  are  powerful,  they  are  also  weak  and  inade- 
quate. No  symbol  can  present  the  fulness  of  the  reality.  No 
particular  can  contain  all  the  nature  of  the  universal  it  seeks 
to  represent.  It  is  useful,  however,  and  true,  if  it  leads  in 
the  right  direction,  if  its  partial  and  pale  reflection  is  correct 
so  far  as  it  goes. 

And  if  symbols  are  powerful  they  are  dangerous.  They 
tend  to  take  the  place  of  reality.  They  tend  to  become  idols. 
They  are  likely  to  attract  the  devotee  to  themselves,  failing 
to  lead  him  on  to  the  larger  realities  they  stand  for.  No  one 
denies  this  danger,  but  no  strong  man  or  no  vitalized  com- 
munity has  ever  been  disposed  to  reject  powerful  and  use- 
ful instruments  because  they  were  dangerous.  The  surgeon's 
knife  may  be  used  for  murder,  but  it  must  still  be  kept  sharp 
as  an  instrument  of  good.  Human  passions  are  dangerous, 
human  liberties  are  dangerous,  but  for  their  several  possi- 
bilities of  good  we  value  them  all.  If  you  want  an  instru- 
ment of  power,  you  must  risk  an  instrument  of  danger, 
understand  it,  master  it,  and  use  it  aright. 

And  there  is  something  to  say  for  idolatry.  It  is  at  least 
an  open  question  whether  it  may  not  be  as  well  for  a  man 
to  bow  to  an  idol  as  not  to  bow  to  anything  at  all.  An  exami- 
nation of  the  psychological  history  of  mankind  would  prob- 
ably reveal  that,  up  to  a  certain  point,  the  experience  of 

•99- 


Art  &  Religion 

people  under  the  sway  of  heightened  emotion  is  much  the 
same  whether  set  going  by  a  modern  rhetorical  address  or  by 
Aaron's  Golden  Calf.  Whatever  takes  people  up  and  out  of 
their  workaday  world  to  a  desirable  place  of  changed  out- 
look, where  they  are  dissatisfied  with  that  ordinary  world, 
where  their  imagination  is  expanded  with  the  intimations  of 
an  Over  World,  and  sends  them  back  refreshed  and  revivi- 
fied, is  so  far  good,  whether  the  apparatus  be  of  one  sort 
or  another.  The  moral  value  of  the  experience  will  be  differ- 
ent according  to  the  moral  equipment  of  the  society  or  per- 
sons involved;  the  energizing  value  may  be  the  same.  It  is 
by  no  means  certain  that  the  moral  ideas  suggested  at  an 
opera  or  even  a  symphony  concert  are  greatly  superior  to 
those  which  were  intimated  to  the  people  attending  the 
rites  of  Ammon-Ra  or  a  Feast  of  the  Passover.  Nor  is  it 
certain  that  the  moral  worth  of  the  fervors  of  tabernacle 
devotees  is  greater  than  that  of  the  theater.  The  experience 
of  worship  must  always  be  divided  into  its  two  parts,  its 
energizing  value  and  its  practical  value.  On  the  energy  side, 
the  idol  worshiper  may  often  make  a  better  showing  than  the 
intellectualist  and,  even  on  the  moral  side,  not  all  the  idola- 
ters have  carried  away  a  less  humane  point  of  view  than 
some  modern  religionists  who  are  out  of  touch  with  the  best 
morals.  I  am  trying  to  suggest  here  that  the  danger  of  the 
symbol  becoming  an  idol  is  no  greater  than  the  danger  of 
impractical  and  unmoral  religious  excitement  stirred  by 
different  means.  And  also  that  this  danger  is  no  more  unde- 
sirable than  the  danger  of  coldness  and  hardness  and  mate- 
rialism without  any  emotional  stir  at  all. 

If  the  symbol  is  at  times  likely  to  take  the  place  of  the 
reality,  there  is  also  a  sense  in  which  the  reality  does  reside 
in  the  symbol,  A  soldier  on  patrol  duty,  guarding  whatever 
he  is  set  to  guard,  might  well  say,  "Strike  me  and  you  strike 
the  United  States."  Christians  have  always  conceived  of 
Christ  as  the  great  symbol  of  God,  but  also  have  always 
conceived  of  God  as  being  in  some  profound  sense  in  Christ. 
To  reject  him  is  to  reject  the  Father,  to  see  him  is  to  see  the 
Father.  With  this  suggestion,  we  turn  to  the  other  side  of 
the  artistic  and  religious  method. 

•  100- 


Symbols  and  Sacraments.; 

As  the  artist  portrays  a  particular'  phj/^qt,  li;t'Mn^,it^ ijitc,;, 
its  universal  import,  so  the  religionist  performs  a  specific  act 
which  he  calls  a  sacrament. 

Protestants  in  general  do  not  have  a  very  clear  concep- 
tion of  what  a  sacrament  is.  We  do  not  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word  and  we  are  suspicious  of  it.  Certainly  it  is 
used  oftentimes  to  mean  something  entirely  foreign  to  our 
whole  conception  of  religion.  Possibly  the  word  should  be 
entirely  discarded,  as  being  obscure  and  misleading.  Possi- 
bly, also,  there  are  important  meanings  in  it  which  we  have 
forgotten  or  undervalued. 

To  begin  with,  the  word  is  derived  from  the  same  root  as 
the  word  sacred,  itself  only  slightly  less  obscure  in  our 
thought.  Yet  we  do  recognize  the  necessity  of  making  some 
distinction  as  between  sacred  and  secular.  If  in  some  sense 
all  things  are  sacred,  the  result  of  attention  to  this  side  of 
the  truth  is  really  to  conceive  of  all  things  as  merely  secular. 
There  are  many  conceptions  and  the  words  which  represent 
them  that  merge  into  each  other  or  that  are  simply  the  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  same  shield.  Nevertheless,  the  shield  has  the 
two  sides.  A  sacred  thing  is  a  thing  dedicated,  belonging  to 
God,  partaking  of  the  nature  of  Divinity.  A  sacramental  act 
is  an  act  of  dedication.  In  some  sense  the  converse  is  true,  that 
every  act  of  dedication  is  a  sacrament,  because  it  partakes 
of  the  nature  of  Divinity.  There  are  things  in  human  life 
which  ordinary  men  generally  feel  to  be  sacred,  holy,  beyond 
cavil,  inviolate.  The  burial  field  of  heroic  warrior  dead  is 
somehow  sacred  soil.  The  birth  chamber  is  a  sacred  place. 
A  great  vow  is  a  sanctified  thing,  such  as  the  "Oath  of  the 
Tennis  Court,"  the  Declaration  of  Independence  which 
pledged  "our  lives,  our  fortunes,  and  our  sacred  honor."  The 
giving  of  self  to  serve  a  cause,  the  laying  down  of  life  for 
another,  the  self-loss,  peril,  and  pain  of  motherhood — these 
are  sacred  things,  in  some  sense  the  manifestation  of  Divinity 
in  human  life,  in  some  sense  placing  the  devotee  beyond 
praise  or  blame.  In  a  slightly  more  restricted  sense,  any 
conscious  and  formal  act  of  dedication  is  sacramental,  such 
as  the  mutual  vows  of  marriage.  If  the  dedication  is  to  God 
it  becomes  a  definite  sacrament. 

•  101  • 


Art  &  Religion 

'  it:  isarreligious  yiew  to  hold  that  God  is  literally  present 
in  the  sacrament.  A  human  being  in  the  act  of  consecration, 
putting  forth  the  spiritual  effort  of  self-offering,  is  then  and 
there  godlike,  then  and  there  partakes  of  the  nature  of 
Divinity,  then  and  there  has  God  in  him,  and  is  seen  to  be 
God  possessed.  As  the  artist  portrays  a  particular  object  to 
help  us  see  that  it  is  more  than  it  seems  to  be,  so  the  priest 
draws  his  people  to  the  performance  of  an  act  in  which  they 
are  seen  to  be  not  only  human  but  divine.  In  the  sacrament 
of  Baptism  the  child  is  dedicated  to  God;  his  life  is  seen  to 
be  of  divine  as  well  as  of  human  origin;  his  life  is  recog- 
nized as  belonging  to  God  as  well  as  to  his  parents,  the 
state,  or  to  himself.  His  parents  dedicate  themselves  to  the 
task  of  bringing  him  up  in  the  "nurture  and  admonition  of 
the  Lord."  They  are  seen  to  be  not  merely  and  physically 
father  and  mother,  but  priests  of  God  entrusted  with  a  holy 
office. 

In  view  of  the  paucity  of  ritual  material  amongst  the 
Protestant  churches,  and  of  the  difficulties  in  the  invention 
of  new  exercises  instinct  with  deep  and  moving  meaning, 
it  may  be  well  to  consider  increasing  the  number  of  sacra- 
ments. Perhaps  one  or  more  others  of  the  early  seven  could 
be  reestablished.  Perhaps  two  sacraments  should  be  devel- 
oped out  of  the  present  usages  connected  with  the  sacrament 
of  Baptism.  It  would  simply  involve  our  all  becoming  Bap- 
tists in  the  matter  of  the  restriction  of  that  sacrament  to 
believers  only.  It  would  constitute  a  more  notable  form  to 
mark  the  matured  acceptance  of  the  Christian  life  and  thus 
go  far,  as  the  Baptists  have  always  held,  to  safeguard  the 
purity  of  the  church  and  its  regenerate  life.  In  this  case,  we 
should  stand  greatly  in  need  of  a  sacrament  of  Christening 
to  take  the  place  of  infant  Baptism.  Such  an  act,  to  mark 
the  Christianizing  or  the  inclusion  of  the  child  in  the  Chris- 
tian community,  the  recognition  that  it  belongs  to  God,  and 
the  vow  of  responsibility  for  its  Christian  nurture,  would 
constitute,  as  at  present,  a  beautiful  and  holy  presentation. 
In  the  formal  sense,  a  sacrament  has  an  outward  as  well 
as  an  inward  side:  it  includes  physical  elements.  There  is 
nothing  especially  mysterious  about  the  nature  of  the  ele- 

•  102- 


Symbols  and  Sacraments 

ments,  except  in  so  far  as  the  nature  of  matter  in  general  is 
mysterious.  Nor  is  there  anything  exceptionally  mysterious 
about  the  nature  of  the  influence  or  purpose  of  the  material 
elements,  except  as  the  nature  of  all  sensational  influence 
is  mysterious.  The  formulas  that  are  spoken,  the  water  that 
is  poured,  both  physical  act  and  material  element,  these  call 
for,  signify,  and  express  the  inner  effort  and  act  of  the  spirit. 
And  if  they  do  so  successfully,  then  God  is  in  the  sacrament. 
If  the  outward  acts,  elements,  or  symbols  do  not  serve  to 
produce  any  motion  of  the  spirit,  either  in  the  heart  of  the 
priest  or  of  the  people,  then  no  sacrament  has  occurred,  and 
no  grace  of  God  has  been  imparted. 

It  is  only  by  long  association  that  many  have  come  to 
regard  the  material  element  as  sacred.  To  the  Protestant 
experience,  the  material  element  is  essentially  only  a  matter 
of  artistry,  a  symbol,  an  idealization.  The  use  made  of  the 
material  element  is  not  a  matter  of  artistry,  but  a  sacrament 
in  which  Divinity  is  present.  In  other  words,  the  view  of 
many  Protestants  that  God  is  not  in  the  sacrament  is  not  the 
view  here  expressed.  The  conception  here  set  forth  is  that 
Divinity  is  actually  in  the  sacrament,  as  being  in  the  spirits 
of  persons  performing  the  religious  act  which  we  call  the 
sacrament.  On  the  other  hand,  the  view  excludes  the  con- 
ception of  any  sense  in  which  Divinity  is  extraordinarily 
resident  in  the  material  elements.  Of  course  our  conclusion 
comes  from  our  definition.  Otherwise  define  a  sacrament  and 
you  must  otherwise  conceive  the  elements.  Or  begin  with 
another  conception  of  the  outward  form  and  it  would  be 
difficult  to  define  the  sacrament,  in  our  manner,  as  a  dedica- 
tory religious  act  of  persons. 

The  sacrament  of  the  Eucharist  is  more  complicated  and 
so  more  mysterious  than  any  other.  Just  as  with  some  works 
of  art  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether  we  have  the  idea 
objectified  or  the  object  idealized,  so  here  we  halt  between 
the  symbolic  and  mystic  conceptions.  Both  are  involved. 
If  even  in  Protestant  feeling  the  strictly  symbolical  is 
minimized  and  merged  into  the  sacramental  or  mystical, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  the  Romanist  has  confused  the 
self-offering  of  the  devotee  with  the  formal  offering  of  the 

.103. 


Art  &  Religion 

elements,  taking  the  elements  out  of  the  realm  of  symbolism 
into  that  of  idealization  and  transubstantiation. 

It  is  essentially  the  same  point  of  view,  often  expressed 
by  Protestants  when  they  refer  to  the  actual  bread  and 
wine  as  "the  sacrament."  In  our  view  these  elements  are 
not  the  sacrament,  but  the  symbols  idealized  to  call  forth 
and  assist  the  inner  and  profound  sacramental  act.  In  what- 
ever sense  sanctity  may  be  said  to  attach  to  the  elements, 
according  to  the  practice  of  some  after  they  are  set  apart 
and  thus  consecrated,  in  actual  usage  amongst  the  reformed 
churches,  the  prayer  of  "consecration"  expresses  only  a 
slight  interest  in  the  setting  apart  of  the  elements  and  a 
deep  interest  in  the  consecration  of  persons. 

The  abundant  danger  of  this  view  is  the  danger  of  sub- 
jectivity and  informality;  the  danger  of  placing  a  too  slight 
value  upon  the  external  and  formal  administration,  and 
the  danger  of  a  merely  humanized  experience.  We  do  not 
sufficiently  believe  in  or  expect  an  actual  visitation  of 
Divinity  in  the  sacrament,  thinking  rather  of  the  experience 
as  our  own.  And  so,  thinking  of  the  experience  as  our  own 
production,  we  have  too  little  considered  the  powers  of  the 
church  and  of  the  formal  administration. 

There  is  an  objective  value  in  the  historic  sacraments. 
The  nature  of  the  spiritual  life  in  a  material  world  is  ever 
a  profound  mystery.  The  nature  of  human  salvation  and 
sanctification  is  mysterious.  One  of  its  problems  Mr.  Hock- 
ing has  stated  thus:  "To  be  disposed  to  save  others  we  must 
first  be  saved  ourselves ;  yet  to  be  saved  ourselves,  we  must 
be  disposed  to  save  others."  This  is  the  perpetual  dilemma 
of  salvation.  If  not  a  vicious  circle,  it  is  a  circle  outside  of 
which  it  would  seem  many  men  stand.  The  sacraments  are 
administered  to  break  the  circle.  The  sacrament  bears  the 
burden  of  initiation.  It  is  not  complete  without  the  actual 
presence  of  God  to  give  power  to  carry  out  the  dedication 
that  has  occurred.  But  the  power  to  make  the  dedication  is 
lacking  without  the  divine  presence,  and  this  visitation  can- 
not come  without  humility.  But  even  your  humility  you 
cannot  produce  of  yourself.  It  is  induced  in  you  by  your 
appreciation  of  something  outside  that  makes  you  humble. 

•  104- 


Symbols  and  Sacraments 

This  is  the  function  of  the  material  elements  and  the  for- 
mal administration  of  the  sacrament.  They  are  symbols 
which  bring  near  to  you  and  represent  the  sacrifice  of  Christ. 
Through  them  you  are  helped  to  "be  in  contact  with  the 
real  and  living  Christ."  That  contact  begins  in  you  a  process 
of  divinization  which  is  partly  your  act  of  consecration  and 
partly  the  action  of  the  divine  grace  toward  you  and  within 
you.  "What  we  consecrate,  God  will  sanctify."  The  tran- 
substantiation  which  occurs  is  not  that  of  the  material  ele- 
ments, but  a  real  transubstantiation  of  persons,  a  real 
change  of  human  nature  into  divine  nature.  This  is  the 
essential  miracle.  It  is  this  experience  of  the  satisfaction  of 
spiritual  hunger,  the  transformation  of  pain,  the  purifica- 
tion, dedication,  and  so  the  sanctification,  of  heart  and 
mind,  which  has  enabled  unnumbered  Christian  mystics  to 
say  that  they  have  partaken  of  the  "blessed  sacrament"  "to 
their  comfort." 

Religion  always  offers  more  than  ideas,  and  more  than 
moral  precepts;  it  supplies  the  energy  to  live  by.  It  cannot 
be  described  in  terms  of  truth  or  in  programs  of  right  con- 
duct, but  rather  and  chiefly  in  manifestations  of  power.  It 
is  for  this  reason  that  Miss  Harrison  has  emphasized  the 
likeness  of  the  latest  and  highest  evolutions  of  spiritual 
experience  with  the  most  primitive.  The  magic  of  savage 
religion,  if  it  could  be  called  religion,  was  operated  in  the 
interests  of  power,  power  in  war,  power  over  private 
enemies,  power  over  the  gods,  or  the  power  of  the  gods.  Of 
not  very  different  sort  are,  and  should  be,  the  highest  reli- 
gious exercises.  They  are  religious  acts,  performed  in  the 
sense  of  weakness  and  need,  to  gain  the  vitalizing  forces  of 
the  great  unknown  "power  not  ourselves."  The  world  of  the 
unknown  is  larger  than  the  known.  Known  forces  we  can 
begin  to  understand  and  to  manipulate;  it  is  the  vast  un- 
known with  which  we  must  come  to  terms.  It  is  this  which 
leads  Miss  Harrison  to  suggest  that  our  gods  become  non- 
religious  by  becoming  known.  She  little  regards  the  ritual 
of  eikonism,  that  is,  the  worship  which  centers  round  a  too 
clearly  defined  and  represented  deity.  She  more  highly 
values  the  ritual  of  aneikonism,  as  being,  like  magic,  aimed 

.105. 


Art  &  Religion 

at  the  control  of  the  unknown  forces,  of  things  that  are,  by  a 
sacramental  and  m5^stical  union  with  the  highest.  Eikonism 
is  symbolism;  aneikonism  is  sacramentalism. 

Two  things,  therefore.  I  am  trying  to  sugg!:est:  that  reli- 
gion^~musrii5e"^mbols,  definitive,  concrete  representations, 
to  "set  forth  what  it  knows  or  definitely  believ.es:  and  that 
it  must  use  sacraments  as  exercises  of  personal  consecration 
to  the  highest  reality,  whatever  that  reality  is,  however 
much  unknown,  that  the  presence  and  power  of  Divinity 
may  become  more  fully  operative  in  human  life.  The  first 
usage  is  merely  artistic,  the  embodiment  of  ideas  in  objects, 
after  the  fashion  of  all  Classic  artists.  Such  embodiments 
may  be  in  the  form  of  pictures,  or  creeds,  or  more  familiar 
concepts,  or  statues,  or  classic  music,  or  the  elements  of  a 
sacrament.  By  all  these  forms,  fairly  clear  ideas  are  objec- 
tified and  symbolized.  The  second  usage  quickly  becomes 
more  than  artistry,  more  than  the  idealization  of  particular 
objects.  The  Romantic  artist  portrays  objects  so  that  we  can 
see  them  in  all  the  reaches  of  their  relations,  idealizing  them. 
Religion  takes  hold  on  a  man  by  a  sacrament  and  not  merely 
idealizes  him  but  transforms  him  into  the  ideal.  The  process 
is  carried  out  of  the  realm  of  artistic  idealization  into  that 
of  religious  transubstantiation. 


•  106  • 


Chapter  XII :  Religious  Education 

TH[ERE  are  very  few  things,  perhaps  nothing,  more 
important  to  do  for  a  child  than  to  help  him  to  see 
that  the  world  is  beautiful.  The  habit  of  observing, 
not  for  the  sake  of  reporting  facts,  but  for  the  sake  of  enjoy- 
ment, is  a  great  blessing  to  any  person.  It  may  be  formed  in 
youth.  It  may  be  in  part  the  beginning  of  a  permanent  pur- 
suit of  that  life  which  is  more  than  meat.  It  may  become  a 
constant  source  of  many  spiritual  experiences  and  virtues 
throughout  life.  The  public  schools  are  doing  much  to  help 
their  scholars  form  this  habit.  Many  churches  also  are  aware 
of  the  powers  of  beauty  for  good  in  life. 

For  the  most  part,  however,  the  conscious  usage  of  the  arts 
in  the  religious  education  of  Protestantism  has  been  limited 
to  the  singing  of  songs,  and  a  meager  amount  of  pictorial 
illustration.  There  has  been  little  conception  of  the  worth  of 
sheer  beauty.  There  has  been  little  attempt  to  develop  in 
any  critical  way  such  exercises  as  children  and  young  people 
will  find  beautiful  and  hence  enjoyable.  These  things  are 
now  rapidly  coming  to  the  fore. 

One  of  the  principal  points  of  merit  in  the  modem  concep- 
tion of  religious  education  is  its  emphasis  upon  expression. 
The  expressive  or  moral  side  of  the  religious  life  has  been 
now  for  a  number  of  years  prominent.  Children's  societies 
and  young  people's  work  and  the  organized  classes  of  the 
Sunday  schools  have  been  devised  for  the  expressive  life  of 
the  youth.  Meanwhile  this  education  has  been  of  late  but 
weakly  impressive.  There  has  been  little  analysis  and  until 
recently  little  experimentation  in  the  arts  of  impression. 
Paradoxically,  the  impression  that  I  am  speaking  of  in- 
volves expressive  exercises  of  worship,  expressive  in  the  reli- 
gious rather  than  the  moral  sense.  It  is  by  the  power  of 
ritual  that  lasting  impressions  are  made.  Religious  educa- 
tion needs  to  take  account  of  such  profound  studies  of  the 

•  107  • 


Art  &  Religion 

social  traits  of  man  as  those  of  the  late  Professor  William 
Graham  Sumner.  He  vigorously  describes  the  influence  of 
ritual,  by  which  he  means  not  only  the  performance  of  reli- 
gious acts,  but  the  detailed  manner  of  life  in  many  relations. 
"The  mores  are  social  ritual  in  which  we  all  participate 
unconsciously.  The  current  habits  as  to  hours  of  labor,  meal 
hours,  family  life,  the  social  intercourse  of  the  sexes, 
propriety,  amusements,  travel,  holidays,  education,  the  use 
of  periodicals  and  libraries,  and  innumerable  other  details 
of  life  fall  under  this  ritual."* 

In  the  more  restricted  religious  sense,  ritual  is  very  power- 
ful. "Ritual  is  something  to  be  done,  not  something  to  be 
thought  or  felt.  Men  can  always  perform  the  prescribed  act, 
although  they  cannot  always  think  or  feel  prescribed 
thoughts  or  emotions.  The  acts  may  bring  up  again,  by  asso- 
ciation, states  of  the  mind  and  sentiments  which  have  been 
connected  with  them,  especially  in  childhood,  when  the 
fantasy  was  easily  affected  by  rites,  music,  singing,  dramas, 
etc.  No  creed,  no  moral  code,  and  no  scientific  demonstra- 
tion can  ever  win  the  same  hold  upon  men  and  women  as 
habits  of  action,  with  associated  sentiments  and  states  of 
mind,  drilled  in  from  childhood.  .  .  .  Ritual  is  so  foreign 
to  our  mores  that  we  do  not  recognize  its  power.  ...  If 
infants  and  children  are  subjected  to  ritual  they  never 
escape  from  its  effects  through  life.  Galton  says  that  he  was, 
in  early  youth,  in  contact  with  the  Mohammedan  ritual  idea 
that  the  left  hand  is  less  worthy  than  the  right,  and  that  he 
never  overcame  it."f 

I  know  that  this  is  precisely  the  reason  why  many  people 
do  not  wish  to  use  ritual.  They  fear  that  it  is  too  powerful. 
Yet,  at  the  same  time,  they  go  about  hunting  for  something 
else  that  will  be  powerful  enough  to  interest  and  hold  the 
youth.  It  is  surely  absurd,  on  the  one  hand,  to  bewail  the 
lack  of  devices  for  holding  the  young  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  fail  to  use  an  admittedly  powerful  instrument  for  it. 
Probably  the  subconscious  mistake  in  this  connection  is  the 
identification  of  ritual  in  general  with  the  particular  rites 


*  Sumner,  "Folkways,"  p.  62. 
t  Ibid.,  pp.  61  and  60. 


108 


Religious  Education 

of  the  Roman  or  Anglican  churches.  Even  Professor  Coe, 
in  his  recent  valuable  book,  "A  Social  Theory  of  Religious 
Education,"  seems  to  make  this  mistake.  In  his  chapter  on 
"Ritualism,"  he  assumes  a  very  narrow  definition  of  the 
term  and  then,  of  course,  very  properly  criticises  that  con- 
ception, knocking  down  the  straw  man  that  he  has  set  up. 
I  should  do  the  same,  given  his  premises.  But  the  premises 
are  wrong.  It  is  entirely  possible  to  develop  beautiful  and 
effective  forms,  such  as  may  be  truly  described  as  rites, 
which  would  have  little  of  the  unfortunate  effect  he  sug- 
gests but  rather  be  calculated  to  impress  and  to  express 
the  very'  sentiments  and  attitudes  he  considers  desirable. 

Even  so.  Professor  Coe  is  ready  to  admit  the  naturalness 
and  the  effectiveness  of  the  ritualistic  method.  Like  every 
other  psychologist,  he  understands  the  imitative  tendencies 
of  little  children  and  the  formality  loving  character  of  the 
adolescent  period.  "The  church  and  its  services  offer  mate- 
rial of  instruction  that  the  pupil  can  experience  as  present 
and  concrete.  The  church  building  and  its  furniture,  to  begin 
with,  meet  the  pupil  as  a  visible  expression  of  religion.  .  .  . 
Small  children  are  fond  of  action  and  of  repetition.  When 
to  the  sensuous  impressiveness  of  a  churchly  interior,  music, 
vestments,  processional,  and  responsive  actions  of  priest, 
choir  and  congregation,  we  add  opportunity  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  whole,  important  conditions  of  a  child's 
interest  are  met.  .  .  .  Many  adolescents  welcome  symbols 
for  longings  that  they  are  not  as  yet  able  to  understand. 
For  adolescence  not  seldom  brings  idealistic  longings  that 
crave  expression  though  they  cannot  as  yet  define  them- 
selves. Symbols  offer  one  mode  of  expression,  especially 
symbols  that  are  stately  and  sounding,  but  not  too  literal." 

The  first  opportunity  of  improvement  is  the  service  of 
worship  in  the  Church  School  itself.  At  this  point,  no  one 
has  made  so  fine  a  contribution  as  Dr.  Hugh  Hartshorne. 
The  results  of  his  thinking  and,  better  still,  of  his  experi- 
mentation and  actual  practical  experience,  are  available  for 
everyone  in  his  books,  "Manual  for  Training  in  Worship," 
and  "The  Book  of  Worship  of  the  Church  School."  These 
contain  not   only  psychological   analysis  and  constructive 

•  109- 


Art  &  Religion 

theory,  but  also  definite  and  detailed  material  for  the  prac- 
tical worker.  There  is  nothing  else  available  anything  like 
so  valuable  as  these  publications. 

Another  of  the  most  competent  workers  and  experiment- 
ers in  this  field  is  the  Rev.  J.  W.  F.  Davies  of  Winnetka, 
Illinois.  His  service  of  worship  for  the  main  Church  School 
is  conducted  in  the  church  building  itself.  The  order  of 
service  is  usually  the  same  in  form,  but  considerably  varied 
in  content,  always  fresh  and  vivid.  He  has  of  late  developed 
an  exceptionally  beautiful  brief  ritual  for  the  further  wor- 
ship of  the  junior  scholars  after  they  have  withdrawn  from 
the  church  services.  It  consists  of  the  lighting  of  four  candles 
in  the  hands  of  chosen  scholars,  from  the  light  burning  in  a 
model  temple,  together  with  the  words  which  described  the 
symbolism  of  the  candles  as  representing  the  parts  of  wor- 
ship. This  ritual,  meanwhile,  is  accompanied  by  the  four 
corresponding  exercises  of  song,  reading,  prayer,  and  giving. 
After  the  children's  sermon,  there  is  a  brief  corresponding 
closing  exercise. 

There  are  other  excellent  usages  of  similar  character. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  simple  and  effective  I  know  of.  It 
has  several  points  of  excellence,  and  is  mentioned  here 
merely  by  way  of  illustration  of  the  kind  of  care  and  dignity 
in  the  matter  of  children's  worship  which  is  needed  in  every 
place.  It  is  a  genuine  ritual,  without  any  objectionable 
features.  It  is  interesting  and  enjoyable  because  beautiful, 
and  impressive  because  compacted  of  an  external  fascina- 
tion and  a  self -expressive  exercise. 

The  next  opportunity  for  the  greater  usage  of  the  fine 
arts  in  the  religious  education  of  the  young  is  the  church 
service  itself.  Amongst  the  best  leaders  in  Church  School 
work  there  is  a  growing  emphasis  upon  the  attendance  of 
the  scholars  en  masse  at  the  worship  of  the  church  service. 
The  simple  device  of  processional  and  recessional  marching 
cares  for  the  practical  side  of  the  matter  and  tends  to  secure 
the  attendance  of  the  whole  body  of  scholars.  In  many 
places  both  the  interest  and  beauty  of  the  plan  are  aug- 
mented by  the  development  of  a  large  children's   choir, 

•  no- 


Religious  Education 

which  may  have  a  modest  but  effective  part  in  the  church 
service. 

One  of  the  reasons  for  this  development  is  the  superior 
beauty  of  the  church  building  itself.  Is  it  fair  to  the  chil- 
dren for  the  church  to  construct  a  costly  and  beautiful  house 
of  worship,  and  then  proceed  to  conduct  the  exercises  of 
worship  for  children  in  another  part  of  the  building  not 
nearly  so  beautiful'?  Few  churches  can  afford  to  build  two 
sanctuaries,  and  none  ought  to.  If  the  rooms  of  the  parish 
house  are  devised  for  general  assembly,  lectures,  secular 
discussions,  social  affairs,  dramatics,  and  other  such  pur- 
poses, they  cannot  at  the  same  time  be  made  so  beautiful  for 
worship  as  the  church  itself,  which  is  made  primarily  for 
worship.  Beginners  and  primary  scholars  have  attractive 
rooms  of  their  own.  But  if  the  juniors  and  intermediates  do 
not  attend  the  regular  church  service,  then  their  own  service 
of  worship  should  be  held  in  the  main  church  and  not  in  a 
hall  or  other  lesser  room.  In  any  case,  the  superior  dignity 
and  beauty  of  the  church  building  itself  should  be  brought 
to  bear  as  an  influential  force  upon  the  lives  of  the  children. 
It  is  throwing  away  a  great  opportunity  not  to  do  this. 
Without  any  danger  of  superstition,  we  may  yet  develop 
something  of  the  attitude  of  reverence  in  the  House  of  God 
which  the  older  churches  demand.  It  is  easier  to  do  this  if 
the  building  itself  is  a  noble  structure. 

If  the  children  attend  the  church  service,  the  church 
service  must  be  planned  for  their  needs  as  well  as  for  the 
adult  experience.  To  this  end  many  ministers  preach  a 
children's  sermon.  There  are  many  things  to  say  for  this 
practice.  A  still  better  method,  however,  is  to  have  the  chil- 
dren's sermon  in  their  own  room,  by  themselves,  imme- 
diately after  they  have  marched  out  of  the  regular  church 
service.  The  chief  difficulty  is  in  finding  someone  to  do  it. 
With  the  larger  parish  organization  and  the  varied  ministry 
that  will  characterize  the  future  church,  this  plan  will  be 
more  widely  utilized. 

Meanwhile  the  usages  and  practices  of  the  regular  order 
of  worship  in  the  church  can  be  greatly  improved  in  the 
direction  of  their  appeal  to  the  young.  For  this  reason,  it 

•  111  • 


Art  &  Religion  i 

becomes  desirable  to  use  every  opportunity  that  is  dignified  i 
for  the  development  of  color,  symbolism,  and  movement,  in  ! 
the  regular  church  service.  Whatever  adds  to  the  interest  of  ! 
the  service  to  the  eye  as  well  as  to  the  ear  is  pertinent  at  this  j 
point.  And  those  who  make  experiments  in  this  direction 
will  probably  discover  that  the  children  are  not  the  only 
ones  for  whom  things  to  be  seen  as  well  as  things  to  be  heard  | 
are  interesting.  j 

Religious  education  is  not  a  limited  process.  It  is  a  life-  ; 
long  enterprise.  It  is  not  for  children  only,  but  for  all  of  I 
us  through  all  our  years.  Here  enters  another  important  fact  : 
which  bears  directly  upon  what  we  shall  do  or  not  do  about  i 
the  development  of  the  arts  in  religion.  The  fact  is  this,  that 
younger  communities  in  our  country  are  free  and  easy  in  i 
their  manners  and  conservative  in  their  thought;  older  com- 
munities are  conservative  in  their  manners,  all  the  while  j 
that  they  are  also  inclined  to  be  more  liberal  in  their  think- 
ing. The  liberal  theology  is  more  developed  in  the  churches 
of  the  East,  and  also  the  better  usages  in  the  art  of  worship,  j 
In  the  West,  the  preaching  is  more  conservative,  while  the  i 
forms  of  worship  are  less  conventional.  The  older  communi-  ! 
ties  are  superior  at  both  points.  I 

The  place   for  new  thought  is   the  pulpit.   The   pulpit  \ 
stands  for  prophecy,  for  proposals  of  change,  for  fearless 
examination  of  truth,  for  an  outlook  toward  the  future.  Yet  , 
the  religious  community  desires  also  to  value  the  past.  It  , 
needs  to  revere  and  to  conserve  the  great  spiritual  victories  i 
and  judgments  of  the  fathers.  It  needs  to  preserve  and  pass  ' 
on  its  great  wealth  of  inherited  devotion.  The  place  for  this  | 
conserving   force   is   the   service   of   worship.   Here   is   the  ! 
proper  vehicle  of  transmission.  Here  is  given  abundant  ex-  I 
pression,  in  the  elder  forms,  of  the  great  answers  that  reli- 
gion always  has  to  the  few  primary,  personal  problems  of 
existence.  The  new  things  are  not  yet  formulated.  They 
need  examination  and  criticism.  The  place  for  setting  forth 
new  proposals  is  not  in  forms  and  exercises,  but  in  the  free 
utterance  of  the  free  preacher.  Religious  education,  like  all 
education,  will  always  include  the  culture  derived  from  the 

•  112  • 


Religious  Education 

past  and  the  scientific  examination  of  proposals  for  the 
future. 

The  children  and  the  youth  have  a  right  to  expect  that 
we  will  convey  to  them  the  riches  we  have  received.  There 
is  no  better  way  than  the  direct  contact  of  reverent  worship, 
as  that  utilizes  the  literary  treasures  of  the  Bible  and  the 
later  Christian  centuries,  together  with  the  reverent  exer- 
cises of  devotion. 

How  much  better  for  adults,  also,  if  they  get  their  con- 
servatism in  hours  of  worship  rather  than  in  preaching.  If 
the  preaching  is  conservative  and  the  forms  are  free  and 
easy,  the  people  never  will  be  religiously  educated.  They 
will  get  neither  the  new  nor  the  old.  They  will  hear  no  fresh 
discussion  of  the  new  things  they  ought  to  be  considering  if 
they  are  to  grow  in  the  knowledge  and  the  practice  of  the 
truth.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  will  they  ever  be  truly  cul- 
tured in  the  old  things,  for  by  no  possibility  can  the  inher- 
ited devotional  riches  of  the  faith  be  transmitted  and  ever 
freshly  enjoyed  in  a  free  and  easy  exercise  of  worship. 

Part  of  the  fault  for  the  situation  just  described  lies  in 
the  theological  seminaries.  They  are  in  these  days  open- 
minded  and  abundant  in  their  teaching  of  the  new  things. 
They  set  forth  the  forward  look  in  matters  of  science  and 
ethics  and  theology.  They  are  deficient  in  their  treatment 
of  the  past.  This  seems  a  strange  thing  to  say,  when  it  is 
popularly  supposed  that  they  are  too  much  rooted  in  the 
past.  They  make  much  of  the  past,  to  be  sure,  but  in  the 
wrong  category.  They  connect  with  the  theological  think- 
ing of  the  past  more  successfully  than  with  the  spiritual 
culture  of  the  past,  two  quite  different  things.  There  is 
instruction  in  the  thinking  and  the  action  of  the  past, 
together  with  slight  conveyance  of  the  feeling  of  the  past. 

Religious  history  is  set  forth  too  largely  as  something 
dead  and  done  for,  something  with  which  you  should  be 
familiar  as  an  educated  man,  but  not  something  that  need 
enter  deeply  into  your  life  as  a  cultured  man.  There  is  not 
a  sufficient  alignment  of  historic  facts  with  those  permanent 
elements  in  human  nature  which  perennially  appear  and 
reappear.  There  is  no  sufficient  sense  of  the  swing  and  re- 

.113. 


Art  &  Religion  | 

swing  of  the  pendulum  of  human  feeling,  and  the  reappear-  i 

ance  of  many  problems  and  the  reappearance  of  many  solu-  | 

tions  in  the  spiritual  life  of  the  race.  The  courses  of  study  ' 

are  not  lacking  in  mentality  or  in  historic  information;  they  i 

are  lacking  in  culture.  j 

They  have  often  sent  out  men  to  preach  old  thoughts  but  \ 
not  equipped  to  conserve  old  feelings.   It  should  be  just 
turned    about.    They    should    send    out    men    thoroughly 

equipped  and  competent  to  bear  to  people  the  noble  worths  ' 

of  the  Christian  treasury  in  superior  forms  and  exercises,  ; 

while  at  the  same  time  equipped  freely  to  engage  in  prob-  i 

lems  of  the  new  thought  and  the  new  morals.  The  true  ; 

religious  education  must  include  not  only  scientific  think-  ; 

ing  and  social  conduct,  but  also  religious  culture.  \ 

Lest  I  seem  to  be  too  harsh  respecting  the  provision  of  ' 

theological  schools  in  this  matter,  the  last  catalogue  of  the  j 

Divinity  School  of  the  University  of  Chicago  lists  more  ! 

than  four  hundred  courses  offered  by  its  regular  faculty  j 

and  the  allied  religious  houses.  Among  these  there  are  just  . 

two  which  are  devoted  to  the  subject  of  public  worship.  \ 

Besides  all  this,  many  students  of  society  are  beginning  to  ' 

realize  afresh   that  education   in  general   is   not  complete  i 

without  religion.  There  is  rapidly  developing  a  widespread  j 

dissatisfaction  with  the  seemingly  unavoidable  secularity  ! 

of  the  great  state  universities.  These  big  institutions  are  ' 

magnificent  embodiments  of  American  idealism  as  well  as  of  \ 

American  ambition  and  efficiency.  There  is,  nevertheless,  a  ; 
highly  unfortunate  weakness  about  any  educational  system 

inhibited  from  a  free  display  of  the  history  of  the  human  j 

spirit  and  from  anything  but  a  meager  provision  for  con-  | 

veying  to  the  maturing  citizen  a  moving  sense  of  the  highest  j 

values.  It  will  some  day  be  disastrous  to  the  life  of  the  ] 
state  if  this  condition  becomes  accepted  as  a  possibly  penna- 
nent  one.  It  need  not  be  permanent  except  for  the  divisive- 
ness  of  religion  itself.  It  is  an  ever  present  challenge  to  the 

church  to  become  unified,  and  that  not  merely  respecting  \ 
Protestantism,   but  rather  respecting  the  whole  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Meanwhile,  there  are  untried  opportunities  for  enriching 

.114. 


Religious  Education 

the  cultural  standards  of  these  universities  by  a  greater 
notice  and  tutelage  of  the  fine  arts.  Something  of  the  same 
amplitude  which  is  accorded  literary  studies  needs  to  be 
provided  for  in  other  artistic  fields.  Without  taking  the 
place  of  religion,  such  a  procedure  would,  nevertheless,  go 
very  far  in  the  direction  of  emphasizing  value  judgments 
and  value  experience  as  compared  to  the  preponderance  of 
study  in  the  world  of  facts.  Meanwhile,  also,  the  demand 
for  education  is  so  great  that  philanthropists  may  well  give 
renewed  attention  to  the  smaller  Christian  college.  The 
population  of  our  great  western  states  will  be  so  large  that 
all  will  be  needed.  The  college  which  is  free  from  political 
connection  is  free  to  develop  not  only  religious  teaching,  but 
the  great  cultural  exercises  of  religion,  in  which  alone  the 
whole  personality  comes  to  the  highest  self-realization. 

Religious  education  is  a  concern  of  statesmen  as  well  as 
of  churchmen.  The  last  word  has  not  yet  been  said  concern- 
ing the  relations  of  church  and  state.  Among  the  categories 
from  which  light  on  these  vexed  and  intricate  problems  will 
be  derived  are  not  only  goodness  and  truth  but  also  beauty. 

And  in  this  whole  matter  of  the  relations  of  art  and  edu- 
cation, the  primary  need  is  a  change  of  attitude  toward 
beauty.  Like  truth  and  goodness,  it  is  an  end  in  itself.  It  is 
one  of  the  supreme  values.  We  try  to  help  children  to  be 
good  for  practical  and  social  ends,  but  also  because  good- 
ness is  ultimate,  because  it  derives  from  a  divine  mandate. 
So,  also,  art  will  help  us  as  an  excellent  means  to  other  ends, 
but  this  is  not  the  chief  reason  for  its  being.  By  this  I  do  not 
mean  just  what  the  old  cry  "art  for  art's  sake"  demanded; 
yet  something  very  like  it.  One  of  the  essentials  of  educa- 
tion, both  general  and  religious,  is  beauty.  To  help  young 
lives  to  see  and  enjoy  beauty  is  to  help  them  apprehend 
God. 


115 


Chapter  XIII :  Church  Unity 

T-IE  possible  union  of  all  Christian  churches  is  in 
the  minds  of  many  men.  Definite  practical  propos- 
als on  the  part  of  great  religious  bodies  are  more 
and  more  hopeful  of  progress  in  this  direction.  Definite 
attempts  and  experiments  in  local  communities  are  numer- 
ous. The  relation  of  the  arts  to  this  situation  is  vital. 

The  experience  of  those  most  interested  to  promote  church 
union  has  revealed  the  difficulties  of  success  in  the  intellec- 
tual area.  Despite  the  prevalence  of  scientific  assumptions, 
the  times  are  still  unfavorable  for  getting  together  on  the 
basis  of  extensive  definitions.  All  the  hopeful  efforts  are 
reducing  to  a  minimum  the  required  points  of  creedal  agree- 
ment. 

It  is  somewhat  easier  to  promote  unity  on  the  basis  of 
common  moral  effort.  Federations,  both  great  and  small,  are 
making  useful  contributions  at  this  point.  Vastly  more  is 
needed.  How  shall  the  voices  of  the  divided  churches  be 
heard  with  effect  respecting  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  a  world 
torn  by  industrial  dissension*?  The  crying  needs  for  innu- 
merable reforms  constitute  perhaps  the  greatest  pressure 
for  a  united  Christendom.  There  are  yet  many  possibili- 
ties of  attaining  the  desired  unions  through  the  joint  enter- 
prises in  which  men  of  differing  creedal  standards  learn  to 
understand  and  respect  each  other  as  they  work  together. 
Yet  the  appeal  of  duty  does  not  have  the  welding  fire  in  it 
except  the  situation  be  critical.  There  is  a  third  region  in 
which  there  may  be  expected  important  contributions  to 
this  need  of  the  times. 

The  unities  of  feeling  are  more  profound  than  those  of 
thought  and  more  stirring  than  those  of  work.  Thought 
often  divides,  feeling  unites.  If  people  can  be  led  to  share  a 
common  emotional  experience  they  have  already  been 
touched  by  the  welding  fire.  One  of  the  resources  for  the 

•116. 


Church  Unity 

creation  of  such  experience  is  that  of  art.  There  is  something 
about  art  which  lifts  people  for  a  time  out  beyond  the  cate- 
gories of  thinking  or  those  of  doing.  Morality,  as  C.  A. 
Bennett  points  out,  demands  choices,  decisions,  the  taking  of 
sides.  These  are  in  themselves  divisive.  The  region  of  art 
is  a  region  of  composure,  the  meeting  place  of  the  sentiments 
of  common  humanity.  "The  artist  demolishes  the  barriers 
which  morality  or  convention  or  prejudices  set  up,  showing 
us  that  if  it  is  necessary  to  establish  distinctions,  it  is  just 
as  necessary  from  time  to  time  to  rise  above  them."* 

If  this  be  true  of  art  in  general,  may  it  not  be  true  of  the 
supreme  art  of  worship?  The  experiences  of  worship  are 
independent  of  the  character  of  definitions  and  of  activi- 
ties. Reverence,  exaltation,  dedication — these  may  be  the 
same  as  to  disposition  and  intensity,  whatever  the  wor- 
shiper's faith  is  about  God  or  about  duty. 

Part  of  the  pressure,  therefore,  toward  church  unity,  and 
one  of  the  great  aids  to  its  coming,  is  not  economic  or 
practical,  but  artistic.  People  of  one  strain  of  spiritual 
experience  are  wanting  the  more  abundant  life  to  be  had  in 
fellowship  with  those  of  other  types.  Moreover,  a  greater 
development  of  the  arts  by  each  type  will  tend  to  diminish 
the  differences  and  assist  the  coming  union. 

First,  then,  there  is  a  widespread  desire  for  a  more  inclu- 
sive religious  experience.  Every  merger  of  religious  bodies 
tends  to  an  enrichment  of  their  expressive  life.  The  divisive- 
ness  of  Protestantism  has  brought  about  a  meagerness  of 
experience,  a  thinness  of  emotional  life,  limited  usually  to 
one  type  only.  Church  union  will  bring  together  the  valu- 
able contributions  of  different  groups,  resulting  in  a  more 
abundant  life  for  all.  In  discussing  the  federation  of  Chris- 
tian churches  in  America,  Professor  George  Cross  of  Roches- 
ter Seminary  writes  of  the  natural  tendency  of  Protestant 
worship:  "In  public  devotions  it  sometimes  degenerates  into 
irreverence.  .  .  .  The  federation  will  tend  to  modify 
greatly  the  worship  of  the  churches  which  come  within 
it.   .   .   .  Out  of  the  richer  sense  of  spiritual  communion  is 

*  "Art  as  an  Antidote  for  Morality,"  International  Journal  of  Ethics, 
January,   1920. 

•117- 


Art  &  Religion 

supplied  a  corrective  of  the  deplorable  common  looseness 
of  public  devotion  in  many  Protestant  churches.  .  .  . 
While,  therefore,  the  future  liturgies  of  the  church  must  be 
free  from  the  sacramentalism  that  regards  any  rite  as  essen- 
tial to  salvation,  or  that  allows  proxies  in  the  religious  life, 
and  while  they  will  be  various  and  flexible,  in  keeping  with 
the  variety  of  types  of  spirituality  in  the  churches,  they  will, 
on  the  other  hand,  take  on  that  more  stately  and  dignified 
character  which  flows  from  the  consciousness  of  a  broader 
and  more  comprehensive  unity."* 

One  of  the  most  deep  passions  moving  the  spirit  of  that 
bold  experimenter,  the  Rev.  William  E.  Orchard,  D.D.,  of 
the  King's  Weigh  House  Chapel,  London,  is  at  this  point.  His 
interest  in  church  union  seems  to  be  an  interest  in  the  larger 
life  to  be  made  possible  only  by  the  blending  of  separatistic 
experience  and  the  moving  forward  of  many  elements  into 
the  fuller  Christian  abundance.  "Every  type  of  Christianity 
is  failing  today  just  because  it  is  a  type.  The  excellences  of 
each  are  negatived  by  its  partial  and  uncorrected  witness. "f 
It  is  precisely  the  sin  of  dividing  experience  which  he  de- 
scribes as  " .  .  .  the  far  worse  schism  of  setting  themselves 
to  minister  only  to  a  part  of  human  nature,  either  the  crav- 
ing for  authority  or  the  demand  for  freedom,  the  longing  for 
mystical  communion  or  the  desire  for  rational  understand- 
ing. The  churches  have  not  only  divided  the  Body  of  Christ ; 
they  have  divided  the  soul  of  man.  If  one  sets  out  in  this 
modern  world  to  find  a  church  which  shall  provide  real 
spiritual  fellowship,  one  soon  discovers  that  in  every  church 
that  exists  we  can  have  freedom  or  authority,  mysticism  or 
rationalism,  the  supernatural  or  the  natural,  liturgical  or 
free  prayer,  trained  and  prepared  preaching  or  untrained 
and  unprepared  preaching,  a  worship  dominated  by  awe  or 
directed  like  a  public  meeting;  whereas  a  human  being  wants 
all  these  things  at  one  time  or  another."^ 

Undoubtedly,  one  of  the  greatest  urgencies  toward  the 
coming  together  of  divided  Christendom  is  this  demand  for 

*  American  Journal  of  Theology,  April,  1919. 
t  Orchard,  "The  Outlook  for  Religion,"  p.  73. 
%  Ibid.,  p.  264. 

.118- 


Church  Unity 

the  fuller  Christian  life  and  experience.  And  this  demand 
is  not  only  on  behalf  of  the  insider,  but  in  the  name  of  the 
outsider,  "that  the  world  may  believe." 

A  thoroughly  modern  man  surveys  the  churches  of  a  great 
city  only  to  discover  that  none  of  them  is  satisfactory.  He 
is  not  attracted  by  the  dun-colored  mediocrity  of  the  aver- 
age church.  It  is  neither  sufficiently  clear  and  progressive, 
intellectually  and  morally,  nor  rich  artistically,  to  be  inter- 
esting. He  turns  to  the  especially  liberal  church  or  to  a 
theater  independent  for  a  satisfaction  of  his  mental  needs. 
But  there  his  emotions  are  starved.  His  modernity  is  not 
only  intellectual  but  artistic.  He  finds  no  reverence,  no  high 
art,  no  worship,  in  the  lecture  hall.  He  swings  back  to  one 
of  the  old  liturgical  churches.  He  is  momentarily  pleased 
with  the  excellent  forms,  only  soon  to  be  freshly  disturbed 
by  the  conservatism  of  thought  still  characteristic  of  all  the 
old  form  bodies. 

In  hundreds  of  communities  there  are,  on  the  one  hand, 
centers  of  liberal  thought  devoid  of  the  artistry  of  worship 
and  of  the  devotional  life;  and  on  the  other  hand,  altars 
where  the  service  of  old  rituals  is  accompanied  by  the  set- 
ting forth  of  old  ideas.  Unfortunately,  moreover,  too  many 
Protestant  churches  which  claim  superiority  as  not  going  to 
either  of  those  extremes,  possess  the  virtues  of  neither  and 
the  faults  of  both.  Their  ideas  are  old  and  their  liturgy  ugly. 
Many  an  outsider  would  like  to  come  in  if  he  could  find  a 
place  where  his  whole  nature  could  be  satisfied. 

The  more  emotional  churches  are  no  more  satisfactory  to 
the  seeker.  Says  Dr.  Shakespeare:  "I  am  inclined  to  agree 
with  the  late  Ian  Maclaren  that  as  the  level  of  culture  rises, 
the  desire  for  liturgical  worship  increases,  simply  because 
breaches  in  reverence  and  taste  hinder  and  offend  the  cul- 
tured, and  these  are  almost  inevitable  in  non-liturgical  wor- 
ship."* Sir  John  McClure,  the  recent  chairman  of  the  Con- 
gregational Union  of  Great  Britain,  in  his  retiring  address 
discusses  at  length  the  necessity  for  improving  the  art  of 
worship.  He  calls  attention  to  the  widespread  development 
of  wretched  hymns  and  hymn  tunes  supposedly  in  the  inter- 

*  J.  H.  Shakespeare,  "The  Church  at  the  Cross-Roads,"  p.  112. 

.119. 


Art  &  Religion 

est  of  popularity.  "But  it  is  urged,  'we  must  consult  all 
tastes.'  I  agree.  In  the  application  of  the  principle,  however, 
it  too  often  happens  that  only  one  taste  is  consulted,  and 
that  the  worst.  Are  we  not  suffering  from  a  slothful  toler- 
ance of  a  poor  second  best*?"* 

In  the  last  analysis  nothing  but  the  actual  union  of  dif- 
fering strains  of  religious  experience  will  accomplish  any 
large  scale  improvement  of  the  religious  experience  fostered 
in  the  local  parish.  Individual  churches  are  already  making 
brilliant  experiments.  Some  of  these  serve  to  point  the  way, 
but  the  national  life  cannot  be  touched  without  the  greater 
union  of  sectarian  bodies  so  desirable  from  this  point  of 
view.  First,  then,  part  of  the  pressure  toward  union  is  the 
desire  for  better  worship,  the  desire  for  the  more  abundant 
life  to  be  had  by  the  blending  of  divided  strains  of  spiritual 
history  and  experience. 

Secondly,  this  desirable  union  will  be  much  furthered  by 
a  greater  interest  in  the  arts  on  the  part  of  non-liturgical 
churches.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  the  adoption  of  the  liturgies 
of  the  older  churches,  either  the  Roman  Catholic  Mass,  or 
the  Anglican  Prayer  Book,  or  the  Greek  Rite.  What  is  re- 
quired is  much  more  difficult  than  this,  a  new  study  of  the 
psychology  of  worship  and  of  the  applications  of  the  find- 
ings to  definite  orders  of  worship. 

The  old  liturgies  contain  not  only  abundant  material 
for  revived  usage  but  many  important  suggestions  on  the 
psychological  principles  involved.  They  were  developed 
through  the  operation  of  those  principles.  Our  orders  of 
worship  are  recent  and  comparatively  undeveloped.  Many 
a  free  church  would  find  itself  far  closer  than  it  thinks  to 
the  historic  liturgies  of  the  church  if  it  would,  on  the  one 
hand,  freshly  and  freely  study  the  principles  of  worship, 
and  on  the  other,  take  the  trouble  to  discover  how  much 
good  there  is  in  many  of  the  older  formularies. 

If  such  effort  could  be  promoted  on  a  large  scale,  I  ven- 
ture that  it  would  have  a  more  remarkable  effect  on  the 
promotion  of  church  unity  than  similar  efforts  either  in  the 
intellectual  or  moral  areas.  Sir  John  McClure  in  the  same 

*  Reported  in  the  Christian  World. 

•120- 


Church  Unity 

address  mentioned  raises  this  expectation:  "There  is  steadily 
growing  amongst  us  a  conviction  that  the  advantage  of  a 
liturgy  greatly  outweighs  its  defects;  and  that  by  enabling 
all  to  join  more  heartily  and  more  intelligently  in  common 
worship  it  provides  a  much  needed  spiritual  uplift  for  both 
minister  and  congregation."  He  suggested  that  "a  liturgy 
might  help,  in  however  small  a  measure,  to  the  attainment 
of  that  unity  for  which  we  long  and  pray." 

Churches  will  be  brought  together  according  as  they  be- 
come similar  through  the  effort  to  develop  a  more  inclusive 
experience  and  appeal.  "It  is  possible  that  the  Protestant 
world  now  stands  on  the  eve  of  some  transition,  waiting  for 
the  manifestation  of  its  full  content  in  a  consummate  act  of 
worship.  It  has  been  said  that  worship  is  one  of  the  lost 
arts;  but  if  so,  it  is  not  to  be  found  by  compressing  the 
spiritual  wealth  secured  by  the  Protestant  Reformation 
under  the  Providence  of  God  into  the  moulds  of  ages  infe- 
rior to  our  own.  Religion  must  now  go  forward,  taking  all 
that  the  past  can  offer,  in  so  far  as  it  can  harmonize  with  a 
greater  ideal,  but  reconstructing  in  some  more  comprehen- 
sive way  the  worship  and  the  conception  of  the  sacrifice 
acceptable  to  God.  From  which  sacrifice  cannot  be  with- 
held any  contribution  made  by  the  human  mind  toward  the 
solution  of  the  mystery  of  existence.  The  sacrifice  will  in- 
clude every  department  of  human  interest  and  inquiry, 
music,  art,  and  poetry,  as  well  as  science,  philosophy,  and 
theology."* 

Mr.  Allen  is  here  hinting  at  more  things  than  at  first 
appear.  On  the  one  hand,  he  has  in  mind  the  tendencies 
here  and  there  to  revive  mediaeval  usages  without  so  very 
much  change.  On  the  other  hand,  he  sees  the  necessity  of 
developing  something  greatly  superior  to  the  Protestant 
usages  current  among  us.  His  hope  lies  in  the  direction  of 
a  newer  and  richer  development  in  the  future,  with  some- 
thing of  the  abundance  of  the  old  liturgies,  drawing  upon 
them  for  many  materials,  but  freely  developed  to  meet  both 
new  thoughts  and  new  psychologies. 

Two  more  or  less  opposing  movements  are  interesting  at 

*  Alexander  V.  G.  Allen,  "Christian  Institutions,"  p.  564. 

•  121  . 


Art  &  Religion 

this  point.  I  do  not  believe  that  either  of  them  quite  pos- 
sesses the  key  to  the  future.  Both  are  significant,  both  will 
make  large  contributions  to  the  church  of  the  new  age.  The 
first  is  what  might  be  called  a  Revival  of  Mediaevalism. 
The  second  is  a  growing  interest  in  the  so-called  Community 
Church. 

The  Revival  of  Mediaevalism  is  manifest  in  two  striking 
movements,  the  character  and  success  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  and  the  extensive  drawing  upon  mediae- 
val forms  on  the  part  of  some  free  churches. 

I  am  not  disposed  to  argue  at  length  with  anyone  who 
denies  the  fact,  but  I  am  acquainted  with  a  very  large  num- 
ber of  personal  transfers  from  other  bodies  into  the  Episco- 
pal Church.  Especially  is  this  true  in  the  older  American 
communities.  A  still  more  striking  fact  is  the  maintenance 
of  the  strength  of  Episcopacy  in  our  older  and  larger  cities 
contemporaneous  with  the  disappearance  of  other  churches. 
There  are  some  cities  in  which  the  decline  of  parishes  in 
other  denominations,  witnessed  by  withdrawals,  mergers, 
and  the  sale  of  old  buildings,  has  been  going  on  the  very 
while  that  Episcopalians  have  been  erecting  the  finest 
churches  in  America.  Possibly  not  all  the  factors  involved 
are  entirely  creditable.  The  influence  of  fashion  may 
account  for  some  of  it.  The  strange  perversity  of  human 
nature  not  to  resent  but  to  respect  pretense  and  exclusiveness 
also  accounts  for  some  of  it.  Superior  organization  and 
foresight  are  an  important  part  of  it.  But  the  most  impor- 
tant factor  is  the  appeal  of  the  richer  spiritual  culture  and 
the  superior  artistry,  both  architecturally  and  liturgically. 

Meanwhile,  there  are  extremely  notable  individual  ex- 
periments among  the  free  churches  in  the  greater  usage  of 
mediaeval  forms.  The  most  extensive  of  these  is  undoubt- 
edly that  of  Dr.  W.  E.  Orchard  at  King's  Weigh  House 
Chapel,  London.  The  published  liturgy  of  his  church  contains 
ten  regular  and  several  special  orders  of  service,  litanies, 
daily  offices,  and  collects.  In  the  main  its  prayers  follow 
those  of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  The  order  for  the  Com- 
munion services  follows  the  Roman  Catholic  Ordinary  as 
nearly  as  Protestant  doctrine  will  permit.  Orders  of  service  in 

•  122  • 


Allen  &  Collens,  Architects. 


SKINNER  MEMORIAL  CHAPEL  •   HOLYOKE  •   MASSAC'KUSKTTS 

A   Congregational  Church  with  a  chancel.  True  to  the  Gothic  spirit  in 
its  proportions.  It  is  long,  narrow,  and  high'..    „      ;,;'>•,' 


Church  Unity 

the  Second  Parish  Church  of  Boston,  Massachusetts,  and  in 
the  Second  Parish  Church  of  Newton,  Massachusetts,  are 
distinguished  by  extensive  drawing  upon  mediaeval  liturgi- 
cal sources,  forms,  and  customs.  The  services  of  the  Union 
Church  of  Winnetka,  Illinois,  and  others,  contain  prayers 
from  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  together  with  congrega- 
tional responses  from  the  same  source,  or  rather  from  the 
more  ancient  sources. 

The  illustrations  of  this  volume  will  amply  reveal  the 
fact,  also,  of  the  revival  of  mediaeval  forms  in  church  build- 
ing. Several  liberal  churches  have  restored  the  altar,  some 
make  use  of  candles,  and  many  have  revived  the  chancel. 
The  rapid  increase  in  the  choice  of  the  Gothic  style  of  build- 
ing, not  only  amongst  the  Episcopal  churches,  but  by 
Methodist,  Presbyterian,  Congregational,  Lutheran,  Re- 
formed, and  Baptist  parishes,  is  a  notable  fact  which  no  one 
who  wishes  to  study  religious  tendencies  can  afford  to  ignore. 

These  things  are  very  powerful.  A  solid  structure  of  brick 
and  stone,  of  large  size,  and  of  great  beauty,  spreads  an 
influence  and  speaks  its  message  for  many  years.  A  Gothic 
building  is  in  itself  a  definite  message,  and  probably  many 
of  those  who  have  chosen  this  style  were  well  aware  of  what 
it  means  and  deliberately  desired  to  say  that  thing  to  the 
people.  All  these  facts,  taken  together,  constitute  a  remark- 
able tendency  of  many  modern  men  to  revalue  some  of  the 
excellencies  of  pre-Reformation  religion. 

Meanwhile,  other  modern  men  are  seeking  a  way  out  of 
the  unhappy  divisions  of  Protestantism  by  the  hope  of  a 
church  which  may  gather  to  itself  all  the  spiritual  elements 
and  traditions  of  the  community,  including  the  aspirations 
of  the  outsider  as  well  as  of  the  churchman.  The  Commu- 
nity Church  idea  is  in  the  air  and  is  in  some  important 
instances  a  concrete  experiment.  No  one  has  as  yet  just 
precisely  defined  what  it  is  with  sufficient  clarity  to  be  con- 
vincing. In  general,  it  is  not  a  Federated  Church,  nor  a 
Union  Church,  but  something  inclusive  of  these  and  of 
other  factors  besides.  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  as  yet  a 
single  organization,  strictly  speaking,  in  existence  in  any 
community.  There  are  communities  in  which  there  is  only 

.125. 


Art  &  Religion 

one  Protestant  church,  having  no  particular  denominational 
connection.  There  are  towns  where  there  is  only  one  church, 
and  that  one  connected  with  a  denomination,  though  some 
of  its  members  may  be  active  in  the  national  affairs  of  other 
bodies.  I  know  of  no  Community  Church  which  includes 
Roman  Catholics  and  Jews,  unless  they  have  left  their 
previous  standing. 

Portland,  Maine,  has  a  town  music  hall,  municipal  organ, 
and  organist,  where  at  the  public  expense  there  are  con- 
ducted programs  of  music,  at  which  also — and  this  is  the 
significant  point — there  are  addresses  calculated  for  the 
public  good,  by  clergymen  of  different  sects.  Something  very 
like  this  seems  to  be  forecast  by  the  plans  on  foot  in  many 
towns  for  the  construction  of  Civic  or  Community  Centers. 
If  you  will  follow  the  architectural  journals  for  a  while, 
you  will  run  upon  designs  for  a  good  many  such  buildings. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  buildings  will  house  a 
program  of  merely  physical  or  social  activities.  They  will 
also  develop  community  dramatics  and  probably  many  of 
them  become  forums  for  the  discussion  of  public  affairs. 

Here  are  two  definite  tendencies  in  the  life  of  the  day, 
seemingly  entirely  opposed  to  each  other.  But  the  urgency 
under  each  of  them  is  probably  much  more  nearly  the  same 
than  appears.  They  are  both,  at  least,  profound  expressions 
of  the  inadequacy  of  typical  Reformation  Protestantism  as 
it  has  been  worked  out  by  the  logic  of  individualism,  sepa- 
ratism, and  the  consequent  starvation  of  the  fuller  man- 
hood. Both  are  dissatisfied  with  the  final  product  of  the 
Reformation  age. 

The  one  group  would  find  a  more  abundant  life  by  the 
recovery  of  some  of  the  lost  treasures  in  the  total  historic 
spiritual  experience  of  Christendom.  The  other  would  en- 
large the  basis  of  its  spiritual  life  by  reaching  forward  to 
give  expression  to  the  more  inclusive  and  the  more  coopera- 
tive ideals  of  the  new  democracy.  No  one  can  now  say  how, 
but  it  is  open  for  all  to  forecast  and  to  labor  for  the  inclu- 
sion of  both  forms  of  riches  in  the  life  of  the  future  church. 

The  protagonists  of  the  Community  Church  have  not  as 
yet  sufficiently  valued  many  of  the  timeless  elements  in 

•  126- 


vChurch  Unity 

historic  Christian  experience.  They  have  not  sufficiently 
weighed  the  profound  conservatism  of  human  nature.  They 
have  not  sufficiently  studied  history  to  understand  that 
almost  every  reformer  and  prophet  has  turned  to  some 
more  ancient  and  venerable  age  for  the  sanction  and 
authority  of  his  message.  As  Jeremiah  recalled  the  primitive 
pastoral  life  of  his  race,  as  Jesus  quoted  the  great  eighth 
century  prophets,  as  Luther  passed  over  mediaevalism  to 
rediscover  the  Scriptures,  so  every  reformer  the  more  readily 
persuades  conservative  human  nature  to  the  acceptance  of 
his  new  truth  by  asserting  that  it  is  really  not  new. 

The  history  of  human  culture  is  a  continuum.  Culture  in 
general,  including  religious  culture,  will  always  draw 
largely  upon  the  past.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  values 
to  be  discovered  in  the  past  are  merely  antiquarian  or  artis- 
tic either.  The  moral  message  of  the  Hebrew  prophets  is 
still  pertinent  and  will  continue  to  be  so  for  many  genera- 
tions. The  moral  implications  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  are 
still  revolutionary. 

But  if  the  life  of  the  past  is  still  valuable  to  us  in  the 
sphere  of  action,  where  presumably  there  are  to  be  expected 
constant  changes  of  standard,  how  much  more  may  the  life 
of  the  past  be  valuable  to  us  in  the  sphere  of  beauty  and 
human  feelings  about  it,  which  is  more  nearly  unchanging 
in  its  quality.  This  means  that  humanity  will  still  continue 
to  be  inspired  by  the  moods,  passions,  apprehensions,  and 
inner  joys  of  the  great  souls  of  the  race.  Why  should  this  be 
less  true  in  religion  than  in  literature  and  the  other  arts'? 

The  plain  conclusion  of  these  facts  is  that  we  do  not  want 
any  Community  Church  if  it  means  that  we  are  to  be  cut 
adrift  from  the  inestimable  treasures  of  devotion  that  are 
our  Christian  inheritance.  The  inheritance  of  the  near  past 
will  perhaps  be  destined  to  be  no  less  powerful  than  that 
of  the  more  remote  days.  The  average  American  Christian 
has  no  intention  whatever  of  giving  up  his  connection  with 
historic  Christianity.  However  lacking  the  common  Ameri- 
can church  may  seem  to  the  critical  analyst,  whether  of  the 
riches  of  the  historic  church,  or  the  riches  of  the  coming 
social  light,  it  is  still  the  most  powerful  thing  in  the  national 

•  127  • 


Art  &  Religion 

life.  It  can  be  changed  and  improved ;  I  do  not  believe  with  ; 

Mr.  Jackson,  the  author  of  "The  Community  Church,"  that  '• 

it  can  be  obliterated.  It  is  a  going  concern,  and  with  all  its  ; 

weaknesses,  it  is  after  all  the  nearest  thing  we  have,  both  j 
to  the  historic  treasures  and  to  the  future  free  thought. 

The  ordinary  American  town  still  receives  more  enrich-  '• 

ing  contact  with  the  past  and  more  enlivening  ideals  for  ■ 

the  future  from  the  average  church  than  from  any  other  i 

source.  It  would  be  folly  for  statesmen,  political  or  reli-  i 

gious,  to  underestimate  the  resources  whether  of  material  i 

property  or  of  moral  idealism  in  the  Protestant  churches  of  : 

America.  ■ 

The   recent   vigorous   book   of   the   Rev.    John   Haynes 

Holmes,    "The    Revolutionary    Function    of    the    Modern  , 

Church,"  also  is  skeptical  of  the  values  of  the  old  organi-  , 

zations  as  a  basis  for  the  church  of  the  new  age.  He  appears  j 

to  be  endeavoring  to  justify  the  development  of  a  religion  i 

so  far  eclectic  that  it  no  longer  regards  itself  as  specifically  ] 

Christian.  He  sees  the  individualistic  method,  as  well  as  the  i 

individualistic    philosophy,    as    the    only    characteristic    of  \ 

Christianity.  He  is  hopeless  of  organized  Christianity  get-  ! 

ting  away  from  the  sole  function  of  saving  persons.  "With  , 

the  weak,  tempted,  imperfect  individual,  the  work  of  the  : 

church  must  begin;  and  beyond  this  weak,   tempted,  and  i 

imperfect  individual,   I  cannot  see  that  this  saving  work  I 

can  ever  go."*  For  this  reason  he  says  that  "the  churches  | 

of  today  are  not  worthy  of  support."  j 

I  fear  the  prosperity  of  the  typical  American  Protestant  j 

church,  as  it  is  today,  almost  as  much  as  he  does.  I  also  be-  ! 

lieve  it  to  be  inadequate  to  the  new  age,  but  I  am  not  hope-  j 

less  of  it.  There  is  in  it  more  than  he  credits  of  the  very  social  j 

spirit  which  he  sets  forth  so  cogently.  There  is  in  it  also  ; 

a  very  reasonable  conservatism  which  is  not  willing  wholly  i 

to  lose  the  continuity  and  power  that  it  has  until  the  pro-  ; 

posals  for  change  are  made  much  more  clearly.  And  this  ( 
conservatism  is  the  more  reasonable,  when  the  carelessness 

of  the  average  unchurched  person  is  more  clearly  recognized  ; 

than  by  these  writers.  Criticism  of  the  church  is.  often  bom  I 

*  The  Revolutionary  Function  of  the  Modern  Church,"  p.  18.  * 

.128.  ■ 


Church  Unity 

of  irresponsibility.  The  wise  social  student  is  cautious  about 
expecting  too  much  from  the  Outsider,  as  well  as  willing  to 
credit  the  virtues  of  the  Insider.  Even  Dr.  Holmes  appeals 
to  Jesus  the  reformer.  He  draws  a  true  and  moving  picture 
of  the  supreme  effort  of  Jesus  to  reform  the  legal  and  moral 
system  of  the  nation  as  well  as  to  reform  persons. 

Why,  then,  abandon  the  Christian  Church  *?  There  is  a 
genuinely  hopeful  movement  in  the  Protestant  world,  which 
I  expect  will  some  day  spread  into  the  Roman  Catholic 
world,  for  a  new  loyalty  to  the  real  Jesus  and  to  his  reli- 
gion and  ethics,  including  their  thoroughgoing  applications 
to  industry  and  government,  including  the  imitation  of  his 
life  of  reform  as  well  as  his  life  of  personal  piety. 

The  Community  Church  idea  would  come  to  us  all  more 
commendably  if  it  were  presented  in  a  more  unbiased  way. 
There  are  many  men  no  less  interested  in  the  improvement 
of  society  than  these  men,  and  no  less  interested  in  a  future 
free  thought  in  all  directions.  But  the  very  reason  alleged 
by  some  advocates  of  the  Community  Church  for  leaving 
off  the  distinctive  appeal  to  the  inner  and  spiritual  authority 
of  Jesus,  is  our  very  reason  for  retaining  it.  There  is  no 
fellowship  so  liberating  as  his.  If  ever  there  was  a  fresh 
and  free  mind  it  was  his.  To  some  of  us  there  is  no  imagin- 
able symbol  of  liberty  and  progress  and  free-mindedness 
so  true  or  suggestive  as  that  of  the  personality  of  the  real, 
historic  Christ.  It  is  just  because  we  want  to  be  guarded 
against  narrownesses,  rather  than  the  contrary,  that  we  hold 
to  him. 

There  is  much  more  yet  to  come,  however,  from  the  com- 
munity religion  movement,  both  of  ideas  and  definite  experi- 
mentation. The  writings  of  Mr.  Joseph  Ernest  McAfee 
along  these  lines,  lacking  in  concreteness  partly  because  it  is 
not  yet  time  to  be  concrete,  are  especially  valuable  for  their 
urgence  of  inclusiveness  and  their  hopes  of  religious  democ- 
racy. 

Meanwhile  we  are  not  going  back  to  a  papal  Catholicism, 
nor  even  to  forms  and  assumptions  that  are  chiefly  mediae- 
val without  being  papal.  And  it  is  inconceivable  that  the 
bulk  of  American  Protestantism,  so  various  in  racial  and 

•  129- 


Art  &  Religion 

ecclesiastical  traditions,  can  be  compressed  into  the  moulds 
of  the  Anglican  forms.  The  authoritative  assumptions  of  the 
Episcopal  body  are  entirely  unacceptable  to  the  typical 
American  Christian.  He  cannot  accede  to  the  conception  of 
a  faith  once  delivered  to  the  bishops.  Nor  can  he  be  satisfied 
with  a  compression  of  his  modes  of  utterance,  either  archi- 
tecturally or  liturgically,  into  the  too  rigid  forms  of  that 
tradition. 

Why,  then,  bother  about  it*?  Because  these  forms  are  the  i 
best  perpetuation  among  us  of  the  total  history  of  Christen-  | 
dom.  Because,  though  our  fathers  may  have  been  French,  \ 
Swiss,  Bohemian,  Norwegian,  or  what  not,  we  speak  the  | 
English  tongue.  Because  the  English  Prayer  Book  is  our  \ 
most  direct  point  of  contact  with  the  devotional  treasures  ', 
of  the  Christian  ages  and  because  the  best  psychology  of  i 
worship  is  found  in  the  usages  under  discussion.  ' 

I  have  always  been  a  believer  in  the  flank  attack  in  de-  ! 
bate.  It  is  better  not  to  contend  all  your  opponent's  points  I 
of  view,  but  to  admit  all  you  can,  holding  out  against  the  i 
irreducible  remainder.  It  is  a  quality  of  human  nature  to 
hold  more  steadfastly  to  its  customs  than  to  its  ideas.  If  the  ] 
future  Protestant  churches  of  whatever  denomination  could  | 
revive  every  possible  mediaeval  form  or  custom  judged  to  \ 
be  valuable  on  its  own  merits,  the  movement  would  go  ; 
very  far  toward  promoting  church  union.  The  Lutheran 
bodies  have  all  retained  a  larger  usage  of  past  forms  than  ! 
the  more  free  churches.  The  Reformed  bodies  use  a  liturgy  ] 
based  upon  the  common  mediaeval  sources  more  nearly  than  \ 
do  Presbyterians  or  Baptists,  Bucer  of  Strassburg  having 
been  in  England  as  a  consultant  at  the  very  formation  of 
the  English  Prayer  Book. 

Moreover,  what  is  to  be  the  future  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic Church  ■?  Must  we  forever  assume  an  insoluble  dilemma 
of  divided  Christendom"?  Can  we  afford  to  concede  that  we 
are  at  a  permanent  impasse?  In  a  fair  and  vivid  paragraph, 
Dr.  Newman  Smyth  describes  the  divergent  ideas  of  the 
church  as  held  by  Catholics  and  Protestants,  closing  his 
series  of  contrasts  with  this :  "According  to  the  one,  the  out- 
standing Church  figure  is  the  priest;  according  to  the  other, 

.130. 


Church  Unity 

the  prophet."*  It  would  be  valuable  if  we  might  all  so  far 
lay  aside  prejudices  as  to  consider  what  further  he  has  to  say 
about  the  future  mergence  of  these  two  conceptions.  "The 
Catholic  idea  is  certainly  here  to  stay.  But  so  is  the  Protes- 
tant. ...  A  fundamental  education  in  religious  values 
alone  can  cause  these  two  ideas  to  coalesce  and  point  the 
way  to  their  final  union  in  the  truly  Catholic  Church.  The 
Protestant  must  come  to  apprehend  the  indispensability 
of  the  Catholic  position;  and  the  Catholic  must  learn  to 
recognize  the  validity  of  the  Protestant  witness;  and  to- 
gether they  must  mount  to  the  higher  Truth  which  includes 
them  both.  .  .  .  What  we  need  to  pray  for,  then,  is  not 
that  this  or  that  experiment  of  reunion  shall  succeed,  not 
that  this  or  that  plan  of  an  interlocking  Church  relationship 
shall  work  out,  but  that  these  two  great  contrasting  Church 
positions  and  ideas,  each  with  a  noble  history,  each  with 
spiritual  first-fruits  to  justify  its  truth,  each  firmly  im- 
bedded in  the  religious  consciousness  of  our  time  and  of  all 
time,  shall  come  to  understand  each  other;  more  than  this, 
shall  come  to  understand  that  each  has  that  to  give  the  other 
without  which  it  cannot  fully  realize  its  own  true,  best 
life."t 

If  anyone  is  able  to  share  such  a  grand  hope,  it  is  indeed 
an  added  reason  for  finding  and  using  all  the  possible  good 
forms  of  the  old  body.  If  the  Protestant  world  could 
freshly  study  the  whole  subject  of  the  art  of  worship  open- 
mindedly,  there  is  no  question  whatever  but  that  it  would 
produce  new  inventions  of  form.  There  is  equally  no  ques- 
tion but  that  it  would  also  revive  much  good  psychology 
and  much  detailed  material  from  the  usages  of  the  ancient 
Church.  In  this  attempt,  I  mean  not  merely  a  study  of 
artistry,  superficially,  but  of  the  meanings  of  symbols  and  of 
sacraments,  both  old  and  new,  which  in  a  general  usage  of 
the  words  are  comprised  in  the  category  of  the  art  of  wor- 
ship. 

Such  a  procedure  would  not  only  immensely  forward 

*  "Approaches  towards  Church  Unity,"  Newman  Smyth  and  Willlston 
Walker,  p.  86. 

t  Ibid.,  pp.  87-90. 

.131. 


Art  &  Religion 

efforts  toward  Protestant  unity,  but  would  also  place  the 
whole  of  Protestantism  in  a  most  favorable  position  for  the 
future  possibilities  of  a  genuinely  united  Christendom. 
Moreover,  such  a  procedure  would  not  discourage,  but 
rather  foster,  the  development  of  a  united  Church  of  Christ 
expectantly  open  to  the  newer  and  later  lights  of  the  Divine 
Spirit. 

What  I  have  been  trying  to  say  might  be  summed  up  in 
the  remark  that  the  mystic  experience  is  much  the  same 
thing,  whatever  its  mental  content  either  theologically  or 
morally,  and  that  this  experience  is  therefore  the  natural 
meeting  ground  of  union.  I  have  already  suggested  certain 
identities  of  the  aesthetic  and  mystical  life.  In  a  later  chap- 
ter is  described  the  psychological  order  of  the  experience. 

That  order  is  the  same  emotionally  and  vitally,  whatever 
realities  or  conceptions  originate  it  or  whatever  ethical  pur- 
poses eventuate  from  it.  Mysticism  alone  has  never  yielded 
a  distinctive  theology,  but  rather  a  distinctive  psychology. 
The  world  of  the  arts  by  itself  has  never  yielded  a  distinc- 
tive morality,  but  rather  the  passion  for  whatever  morality 
is  carried  to  it.  Men  may  differ  in  their  beliefs  and  in  their 
ethics;  the  inner  process  of  the  enjoyment  of  their  faith  is 
the  same.  As  the  conscience  tells  all  men  that  they  ought, 
but  not  to  all  men,  in  the  same  way,  what  they  ought,  to  do, 
so  worship  is  the  same  whatever  its  content.  No  category 
of  thought,  therefore,  nor  of  ethics,  can  yield  the  same  hope 
of  union  as  that  contained  in  the  essential  commonness  of 
the  nature  of  worship. 


132 


Chapter  XIV :  Technique  and  Freedom 

THERE  is  no  more  important  practical  subject  than 
that  of  freedom.  We  of  the  "free  churches"  value 
our  liberty.  Constantly  we  reiterate  the  fact  and  the 
virtues  of  free,  spontaneous  prayer  and  unstereotyped  public 
worship.  We  are  prone  to  consider  a  liturgy  or  a  rite  as  a 
form  of  bondage.  We  claim  the  right  of  free  thought  un- 
authorized by  bishop  or  Bible  or  creed.  We  almost  wholly 
misconceive  the  nature  and  the  source  of  freedom.  Our  con- 
ception of  spiritual  and  ecclesiastical  freedom  is  often  as 
childish  and  wrong  as  many  popular  notions  of  personal, 
industrial,  or  political  liberty. 

Freedom  is  not  acquired  simply  by  release  from  law  or 
sanction  or  authority  or  technique.  Liberty  is  not  negative 
but  positive.  It  is  derived,  always,  from  some  new  and  com- 
manding principle  or  from  some  new  mastery  of  technical 
processes.  Freedom  is  not  the  gift  of  formlessness  but  the 
mastery  of  form. 

The  effect  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  was  to  free  the  Chris- 
tian community  from  the  old  Jewish  law.  What  was  the 
thing  that  made  them  free?  Certainly  not  simply  making  a 
declaration,  certainly  not  a  mere  "kicking  over  the  traces." 
They  did  neither  of  these  things.  The  thing  that  made  them 
free  was  their  own  inner  acceptance  of  the  new  Christian 
principle  of  love.  Without  this,  they  had  far  better  have 
stayed  under  the  holding  authority  of  the  old  law. 

The  acquisition  of  a  positive  freedom  is  always  harder 
than  it  appears  to  be.  We  are  wrongly  given  to  regard  the 
release  from  the  old  tyranny  as  the  essence  of  liberty.  It  is 
rather  only  the  opportunity  of  liberty.  Liberty  must  be 
acquired  and  established  by  some  new  and  self-imposed 
regulation.  The  American  colonies  were  not  really  free  and 
independent  states  until  the  struggles  of  the  Constitutional 
Convention  had  given  them  a  new  instrument  of  cohesion 

•133- 


Art  &  Religion 

and  stability.  The  criminal  released  from  prison  is  not  really 
a  free  man  until  his  definite  devotion  to  a  new  labor  has 
reestablished  his  feet  in  the  path  of  hope  and  progress.  The 
scientist  is  not  free  to  move  with  authority  and  precision 
through  the  mazes  of  his  material  until  long  toils  have  given 
him  mastery  over  that  material.  The  baseball  pitcher  is  not 
free  to  place  the  ball  exactly  as  he  desires  until  long  practice 
has  given  him  the  reward  of  a  nearly  perfect  control.  I  am 
not  free  to  paint  a  picture  nor  to  play  an  organ  because  I 
have  not  acquired  the  necessary  technique  in  these  arts. 

It  is  a  question  whether  the  so-called  free  churches  are 
free  to  do  anything  but  perish.  Independency  can  be  devel- 
oped to  such  an  extent  as  entirely  to  nullify  the  very  free- 
dom sought  for.  Premature  revolution  has  oftentimes 
defeated  itself.  In  the  hurly-burly  of  history,  more  than  one 
group  of  protestants  has  separated  itself  only  to  find  that  its 
new  organization  was  too  slight  and  shifting  a  thing  to 
sustain  itself  amidst  the  vast  complications  of  civilized  life. 
During  several  years  of  travel  throughout  our  country,  I 
was  amazed  at  the  remarkable  intellectual  and  civic  influ- 
ence of  the  New  England  and  Puritan  heritage  in  our 
national  life.  It  is  a  grave  question  whether  this  brave  and 
adventurous  individualism,  philanthropic  in  practice  and 
progressive  in  thought,  can  sustain  and  perpetuate  its  own 
strain  in  the  face  of  the  competition  of  thicker-bodied  move- 
ments. 

There  is  no  citizen  who  so  misreads  the  meaning  of  free- 
dom as  the  typical  modem  liberal.  The  "independent"  in 
politics  oftentimes  discovers  that  he  has  no  effective  instru- 
ment whereby  to  influence  the  affairs  of  state,  frequently 
being  reduced  to  an  obnoxious  choice  as  between  two  almost 
equally  offensive  programs.  Even  more  so,  the  moral  and 
religious  independent  is  ineffective  in  the  deeper  life  of 
society. 

There  are  very  large  numbers  of  men  today,  men  of 
public  spirit  and  intelligence  who  stand  outside  the  organ- 
ized efforts  of  moral  education  and  social  control.  They  are 
asserting  their  freedom.  They  think  they  have  found  a 
liberty  of  conscience  and  of  action  untrammeled  by  the 

•134- 


Technique  and  Freedom 

alleged  narrowness  of  any  ecclesiastical  organization.  But 
their  freedom  is  a  very  specious  thing.  Instead  of  acquiring 
freedom  for  themselves  they  have  thrown  it  away  and 
placed  it  where  it  ought  not  to  be.  Without  even  a  fight  for 
it,  they  have  given  a  "free  hand"  to  the  forces  of  conserv- 
atism or  of  reaction. 

There  is  no  more  profound  problem  in  sociology  than  just 
this  matter  of  the  incoherence  of  liberalism.  Men  of  inde- 
pendent mind  are  by  their  very  nature  individualistic.  And, 
unfortunately,  the  revolt  of  each  is  likely  to  be  due  to  some 
slightly  different  cause.  It  is  hard  for  liberals  to  agree, 
harder  for  them  to  accept  any  new  partisan  bondage.  But 
without  agreement  and  without  definite  organizational  in- 
struments there  can  be  no  positive  freedom. 

These  men  are,  strictly  speaking,  not  free  at  all  to  affect 
the  life  of  the  state  as  they  would  like.  They  have  misinter- 
preted freedom.  They  are  only  free  to  wring  their  hands  in 
futile  protest.  They  should,  rather,  intelligently  face  the 
fact  that  a  large  part  of  the  moral  education  of  the  youth 
of  America  is  in  the  hands  of  religious  and  moral  conserva- 
tives. 

The  liberal  vainly  wonders  why  he  cannot  affect  the 
prejudiced  minds  of  adult  citizens,  the  same  while  that  he 
allows  the  minds  of  youthful  prospective  citizens  to  be  bent 
in  wrong  directions  from  the  very  start.  In  other  words,  the 
freeman  is  not  free  to  affect  the  life  of  his  time  until  he  has 
acquired,  perhaps  at  a  cost  that  seems  to  limit  his  freedom, 
an  instrument  which  he  can  use  effectively  to  promote  his 
ideals  of  the  social  welfare. 

These  remarks  I  am  making  for  two  reasons.  They  sug- 
gest a  line  of  thought  and  a  series  of  problems  pertinent  to 
the  general  point  of  view  of  this  whole  book,  the  view  that 
the  individualistic  temper  of  the  Reformation  age  must  be 
modified  by  new  forms  of  cooperation  or  cohesion  which  will 
be  characteristic  of  the  new  age.  The  most  of  these  problems 
lie  outside  the  range  of  the  artistic  interest  we  are  pursuing. 
They  form,  however,  a  line  of  reinforcement  to  the  urgence 
for  church  unity.  And  they  serve  to  answer  some  of  the 
objections  to  it.  The  free  churches  will  be  not  less,  but  more, 

•135- 


Art  0  Religion 

free  to  wield  the  influence  they  desire  according  as  they  shall 
be  willing  to  develop  modifications  in  the  direction  of  the 
new  age  commonality. 

The  other  reason  for  these  remarks  is  that  they  constitute 
another  illustration  of  the  necessity  for  free  ideas  to  find 
adequate  symbols  of  expression  or  a  definite  technique  if 
they  are  to  be  communicated  in  ordinary  life.  These  con- 
siderations require  an  improved  technique  of  worship  in  the 
Protestant  world. 

The  chair  of  homiletics  is  an  old  institution  in  our  schools 
of  theology,  a  recognition  of  the  necessity  of  technique  in 
the  sermon.  Not  nearly  enough  instruction  in  the  technique 
of  public  prayer  has  been  provided.  On  the  whole,  the  aver- 
age minister's  sermons  are  far  superior  in  variety,  structure, 
diction,  and  good  taste,  to  his  prayers.  The  prayer  is  far  the 
more  difficult  exercise.  The  limits  of  propriety  as  to  its 
form  of  discourse,  choice  of  words,  imagery,  and  other 
factors  are  much  more  narrow  and  exacting  than  for  that  of 
any  other  human  utterance. 

Almost  all  those  who  attempt  a  critical  improvement  of 
public  prayer  have  found  it  valuable  to  requisition  more  or 
less  material  from  the  old  books  of  devotion,  the  Psalms  or 
other  prayer  books.  They  have  done  this,  not  by  way  of  dis- 
placing spontaneous  expression,  but  rather  by  way  of  an 
added  value  and  an  improved  background,  as  Dr.  Orchard 
suggests:  "the  intention  being  to  create  an  atmosphere  of 
devotion  and  to  provide  a  background  of  prayer,  rather  than 
attempting  to  force  individual  aspirations  into  a  prescribed 
form,  or  pretending  to  cover  the  complete  exercise  of  prayer. 
Rightly  understood  by  those  who  lead,  liturgical  prayer  may 
therefore  be  a  greater  encouragement  to  'free'  prayer  than 
the  often  too  dominating,  individualistic,  and  complicated 
utterances  which  have  come  to  be  thus  exclusively  de- 
scribed."* 

It  is  highly  questionable  whether  the  new  technique  can 
be  adequate  without  a  new  service  book.  So-called  non- 
liturgical  churches  have  been  proud  of  their  freedom  from  a 
prayer  book.  Yet  more  and  more  it  becomes  evident  that 

*  W.  E.  Orchard,  "The  Order  of  Divine  Service,"  Preface,  p.  5. 

.136. 


Technique  and  Freedom 

some  kind  of  public  liturgy  is  necessary.  Most  of  our  denom- 
inational publishing  houses  issue  books  of  prepared  service 
forms.  The  Reformed  Church  has  always  had  a  liturgy.  The 
Presbyterian  Book  of  Common  Worship  was  copyrighted  in 
1905.  The  Unitarian  hymnal  contains  a  complete  order  of 
service  for  each  Sunday  of  the  month.  Notable  publications 
have  been  issued  by  local  parishes  such  as  that  of  the  First 
Congregational  Society,  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  in  1845,  ^"^d 
of  Second  Parish  Church,  Boston,  in  1914.  The  most  recent 
published  liturgy  is  the  Order  of  Divine  Service  for  Public 
Worship,  Oxford  Press,  1919,  following  the  usages  of  the 
King's  Weigh  House  Chapel,  London. 

None  of  these  will  be  found  wholly  satisfactory  by  the 
average  Protestant  church.  It  is  noteworthy  that  all  of  them 
draw  heavily,  both  as  to  form  and  materials,  from  the  Eng- 
lish Book  of  Common  Prayer.  I  have  already  suggested  why 
the  great  Prayer  Book  cannot  be  used  as  it  stands.  Dr.  Percy 
Dearmer  in  his  recent  and  valuable  book,  "The  Art  of  Wor- 
ship," suggests  important  improvements  in  the  English 
ritual. 

Considerable  changes  and  additions  are  proposed  by  offi- 
cial bodies  now  at  work  on  the  subject.  The  English  "Report 
of  the  Archbishop's  Committee  of  Inquiry  on  the  Worship 
of  the  Church"  and  the  American  "Report  of  the  Joint  Com- 
mission on  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer"  were  both  pub- 
lished in  1919.  But  the  changes  suggested  are  insufficient  for 
winning  any  considerable  following  outside  the  Episcopal 
Communion.  If  the  Episcopal  Church  could  more  fully 
understand  the  points  of  view  of  the  free  churches,  it  might 
be  persuaded  of  the  great  opportunity  before  it,  should  it  be 
willing  to  make  important  changes  in  the  liturgy.  If  it  does 
not  do  this,  we  need  a  new  service  book. 

Perhaps  such  a  book  is  an  impossibility  for  the  early 
future.  Its  preparation  would  require  not  only  study  and 
collation,  but  wider  popular  experimentation,  before  a 
usable  and  satisfactory  manual  could  be  produced. 

It  is  earnestly  to  be  hoped  that  some  great  university  may 
establish  a  Chair  of  Liturgies  in  order  to  centralize  scholar- 
ship in  the  subject  and  also  promote  popular  experimenta- 

•137- 


Art  ^  Religion 

tion  and  collate  its  results.  If  such  a  foundation  could  also 
be  related  to  university  extension  work,  it  would  constitute 
a  great  aid  to  one  of  the  deepest  needs  of  the  times  in  the 
religious  and  moral  world.  The  ministers  are  thirsty  for 
help  in  this  department.  The  character  of  the  subject  is  such 
that  popular  experimentation  is  insufficient;  it  requires  also 
scholarship.  The  historical  and  psychological  studies,  to- 
gether with  the  philosophical  and  aesthetic  considerations 
involved,  are  of  such  a  nature  as  to  call  for  the  cooperation 
of  the  centers  of  learning,  as  well  as  the  actual  practice  of 
ecclesiastical  institutions. 

I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  a  new  service  book  is  all  that 
we  need  in  this  direction.  The  worship  of  the  future  church 
will  include  many  varieties  of  expression  not  to  be  com- 
pacted in  any  formal  liturgy.  It  will  always  have  need  for 
the  free,  spontaneous,  public  meeting  style  of  exercise.  It 
will  develop  many  kinds  of  specially  prepared  orders  for 
occasional  uses,  some  of  great  elaboration.  It  will  call  forth 
gifted  individuals,  who  will  devise  original  usages  as  they  go 
along.  An  example  of  this  last  suggestion  is  the  work  but 
recently  opened  in  London  by  Dr.  Percy  Dearmer  and  Miss 
Maude  Royden. 

All  these  considerations  do  not  render  less  desirable  a 
service  book  which  can  be  the  steady  "Ordinary"  of  the 
usage.  Such  a  book,  however,  should  contain  a  variety  of 
services,  both  as  to  form  and  content.  The  old  Book  of 
Common  Prayer  does  not  have  sufficient  variety  in  either. 
Dr.  Orchard's  book  contains  a  number  of  services  with  dif- 
fering content,  but  none  sufficiently  differing  in  form  from 
the  regular  service. 

One  of  the  important  needs,  demanding  a  variation  in 
form,  is  that  of  the  small  church,  which  may  be  oftentimes 
without  a  minister.  Some  of  our  home  mission  churches 
would  be  greatly  benefited  if  they  could  have  a  service  book 
which  contained  a  simple,  practicable  order  that  could  be 
read  by  one  of  the  elders  or  deacons.  Many  of  our  average 
churches  would  not  wish  to  use  an  order  that  could  be  well 
managed  only  on  a  larger  scale.  The  book  needed  should 
cover  these  varied  requirements  for  usual  Sunday  services, 

•  138- 


Technique  and  Freedom 

without  attempting  to  provide  for  the  more  extraordinary 
occasions. 

Meanwhile,  there  is  needed  among  the  free  churches  more 
attention  to  the  psychology  of  the  subject,  both  in  the  large 
and  with  respect  to  seemingly  trivial  details.  One  illustra- 
tion will  suffice  to  indicate  the  kind  of  analysis  needed  at 
many  points. 

Not  long  since,  the  choir  director  of  our  church  desired 
to  place  a  particular  solo  immediately  before  the  sermon  in 
the  regular  service.  We  tried  it,  but  the  effect  was  decidedly 
unfortunate.  And  the  reason  is  perfectly  clear.  There  should 
not  be  a  work  of  art  of  this  kind  immediately  before  a  long 
address.  If  the  music  is  not  good,  it  should  not  be  there,  any- 
way. If  it  is  good,  if  it  succeeds  in  giving  to  people  the  imag- 
inative lift  which  any  work  of  art  should  do,  the  following 
moment  is  not  the  one  for  the  opening  of  a  sermon.  An  imag- 
inative preparation  of  that  sort  should  be  followed  imme- 
diately by  something  impressive,  a  prayer,  a  scripture,  or  a 
very  brief  and  quiet  word  of  address. 

A  sermon  should  not  begin  impressively.  It  should  begin 
interestingly,  but  the  heavier  burden  of  impression  should 
come  with  the  climax  and  at  the  close.  Therefore,  some  more 
common  and  ordinary  exercise,  such  as  a  hymn,  should 
immediately  precede  the  sermon.  If  the  order  of  worship  has 
developed  an  imaginative  outlook  and  an  emotional  power 
by  itself,  the  cycle  of  its  psychological  course  should  be 
brought  to  a  certain  conclusion  before  the  beginning  of  the 
sermon.  There  should  be  something  to  ground  the  atten- 
tion after  the  first  emotional  lift,  something  to  bring  back 
the  whole  situation,  so  to  speak,  to  "neutral  clutch."  An 
artistic  solo  does  not  do  this.  It  does  too  much.  Something 
else  is  required,  which  will  enable  the  sermon  to  begin  lower 
down  as  it  were,  and  then  lead  to  a  fresh  ascent  of  the  emo- 
tions. I  speak  of  this  in  detail  merely  to  indicate  the  neces- 
sity for  a  similarly  critical  examination  of  other  materials 
which  the  artist  in  worship  may  utilize  as  he  becomes  profi- 
cient in  the  technique  of  his  art. 

These  materials  of  the  artist  in  worship  consist  of  other 
things  besides  music,  readings,  and  prayers.  They  may  in- 

•139- 


Art  &  Religion 

elude  also  any  little  physical  exercises  such  as  receiving  the 
collection  plates,  and  placing  them  upon  a  table  or  treasury; 
appropriate  vestments  for  minister  and  choir;  a  processional 
movement  of  singers;  or  other  devices  which  add  objective 
interest  to  the  service.  It  is  becoming  more  and  more  common 
for  churches  of  various  denominations  to  clothe  their  choir 
in  some  uniform  garment.  The  reasons  are  obvious.  It  not 
only  nullifies  the  disagreeable  effect  of  otherwise  discordant 
colors,  or  differences  of  richness  in  personal  apparel,  but 
gives  a  positive  effect  of  order  and  harmony,  and  hence  of 
beauty. 

There  are  also  an  increasing  number  of  churches  which 
appreciate  both  the  dignity  and  the  modesty  of  having  the 
minister  wear  a  quiet  robe.  Meanwhile  there  are  some 
churches  in  which  the  beauty  of  the  service  is  increased, 
according  to  their  taste,  by  certain  appropriate  and  interest- 
ing usages  of  color.  The  joy  of  religion  is  not  sufficiently 
symbolized  if  the  prevailing  note  is  black. 

Even  the  most  independent  of  all  the  churches  have  never 
felt  the  necessity  for  discouraging  any  of  these  develop- 
ments. In  the  "Handbook  of  Congregationalism,"  by  the 
Rev.  Henry  Martyn  Dexter,  D.D.,  is  the  following  para- 
graph: "As  already  suggested,  Congregational ists  enjoy  a 
larger  liberty  in  respect  to  all  things  which  have  been  in  this 
chapter  discussed,  than  is  within  the  constitutional  reach  of 
Christians  of  other  polities.  Any  Congregational  church, 
whose  taste  and  sense  of  expediency  may  so  incline  it,  is  at 
perfect  liberty  to  order  its  worship  by  the  liturgy  of  the 
Church  of  England,  or  the  Protestant,  or  Reformed  Episco- 
pal Church  of  the  United  States,  or  by  a  liturgy  of  its  own. 
So  long  as  it  do  nothing  which  shall  give  reasonable  ground 
of  offense  to  the  other  churches  with  which  it  is  in  fellow- 
ship, it  may  order  its  prayers,  its  praise,  and  all  the  methods 
of  its  worship,  to  its  own  entire  content;  and  its  pastor, 
remaining  true  to  our  fundamentals  of  doctrine  and  of 
polity,  though  enrobed  and  endowed  with  'Chasuble,  Albe, 
Amice,  Stole,  Maniple,  and  Zone,  with  two  blessed  Towels, 
and  all  their  Appendages,'  would  remain,  in  good  faith  and 
entirely,  a  Congregational  minister  still." 

•  140- 


SILVER  ALMS  BASIN 
Made  by  Arthur  J.  Stone. 


ALTAR  CROSS 
IN  SILVER,  IVORY,  AND  ENAMEL 

Made  by  Arthur  J.  Stone. 


CAkVED  'XV  t>  JGILDEO 
CANDLESTICK 

Made  by  G.  Troccoli. 


Technique  and  Freedom 

The  very  words  of  Dr.  Dexter's  paragraph  indicate,  how- 
ever slightly,  some  of  the  rich  things  in  the  past  of  the 
Christian  Church  which  Protestants  have  largely  forgotten 
or  have  never  known.  Some  of  these  past  riches  are  wonder- 
fully worth  recovering;  other  such  like  riches  we  may  create 
for  ourselves,  and  indeed  are  beginning  to  create.  It  is  not 
generally  known  how  many  works  of  artistic  merit  are  now 
being  produced  by  the  different  societies  of  arts  and  crafts 
for  the  churches,  many  of  these  for  the  free  churches.  Excel- 
lent handwork  in  silver,  precious  stones,  glass,  metals,  tex- 
tiles, oak,  brass,  and  printing  is  being  done  in  larger  and 
larger  quantity.  The  revival  of  artistic  interest  in  the  older 
churches  has  called  forth  a  steady  stream  of  chalices,  crosses, 
pyxes,  vestments,  teredos,  pulpits,  altars,  windows,  altar 
books.  Bibles,  and  other  objects,  each  of  them  designed  for  a 
definite  and  fitting  place  in  a  finished  technique  of  worship. 

Not  only  in  ritualistic  churches,  but  amongst  the  free 
churches,  are  there  many  new  buildings  where  the  minor 
objects  are  finely  and  beautifully  wrought,  although  prop- 
erly subordinated  by  the  simplicity  of  the  larger  structural 
lines  and  spaces.  Symbolic  carvings  in  the  stones  of  doorway 
arches,  pier  heads  and  towers;  figures  in  relief  on  pulpits, 
chairs,  tables,  screens,  or  pews;  candlesticks,  candelabra,  and 
hanging  lamps;  plates,  fonts,  panels,  hardware,  and  organ 
cases;  embroidered  bookmarks  and  altar  covers;  pictorial 
figures  or  significant  designs  painted  on  glass  and  in  some 
cases  on  walls;  all  these  are  more  and  more  being  recognized 
as  important  adjuncts  to  the  materials  in  the  hand  of  the 
artist  in  worship. 

It  is  easy  to  condemn  this  tendency  out  of  hand.  It  is 
better  to  try  to  understand  it  and  use  it  aright.  The  hunger 
for  beauty  is  a  God-given  desire  in  human  nature.  It  may 
be  denied  and  sacrificed  when  pressing  concerns  call  for  stern 
and  heroic  measures :  it  is  to  be  feared  when  it  becomes  glut- 
tonous: in  healthy  normal  life  it  must  be  satisfied.  I  have 
not  denied  that  beautiful  symbolic  objects  are  dangerous. 
But  they  are  at  once  less  dangerous  and  far  more  refining 
than  other  modes  of  the  corporeal  display  of  religious  faiths 
and  feelings.  If  it  is  possible  for  a  love  of  beautiful  things 

•143- 


Art  &  Religion  ] 

to  become  debased  into  merely  sensuous  pleasure,  that  same  •! 
love  of  beauty  is  for  many  a  religious  soul  a  genuine  spirit  of  5 
reverence.  Protestants  would  do  well  to  recognize  a  certain  j 
profound  piety  moving  in  and  through  the  impulse  to  I 
beautify  the  House  of  God  and  all  things  that  have  to  do  | 
with  the  setting  and  scene  where  people  meet  to  worship  \ 

God.  : 

The  necessity  for  improvement  in  the  art  of  worship  is  \ 
evident  to  larger  and  larger  numbers  of  clergymen.  There  i 
is  on  the  whole  a  large  amount  of  experimentation  going  on  j 
in  all  these  matters.  It  is  not  desirable  to  curtail  but  rather  ; 
to  promote  this.  Much  more  is  needed  before  any  general  ^ 
unification  of  forms  and  usages  will  be  either  possible  or  \ 
desirable.  The  broad  principle  which  I  have  to  suggest  for 
the  study  of  the  liturgy  as  a  whole  is  developed  in  the  next 
two  chapters. 

But  improved  forms  there  must  be  and  will  be  in  the  great 
new  age  before  us.  The  lover  of  freedom  who  wants  to  get  on 
without  form  is  not  enough  of  a  lover  of  freedom  for  the 
new  day.  He  needs  to  enlarge  both  the  scope  of  his  own 
desires  and  the  price  he  is  willing  to  pay  for  their  satisfac- 
tion. Freedom  is  not  derived  simply  from  absence  of  form, 
either  in  prayer  or  ecclesiastical  organization  or  in  any  other 
category:  it  comes  from  the  mastery  of  form.  Bad  form  is 
ugly  and  tyrannical.  To  live  without  form  is  to  live  futilely. 
Good  form  may  be  the  very  vehicle  and  guarantee  of  free- 
dom. Freedom  in  the  experience  and  in  the  expression  of 
worship  is  the  gift  of  technique  in  the  art  of  worship. 


144. 


Chapter  XV :  The  Mysticism  of  Isaiah 

POSSIBLY  the  experience  of  beauty  is  the  same  thing 
as  the  experience  of  worship.  Some  of  its  elements, 
at  least,  would  appear  to  be  identical  with  the  course 
of  that  illumination  described  by  Isaiah  as  the  mystical 
source  of  his  prophetic  insight  and  power. 

The  experience  begins  with  attention  to  some  object,  that 
body  of  beauty  or  reality  outside  us  which  induces  the  ex- 
perience. I  do  not  pause  here  for  any  discussion  of  what 
might  be  called  the  mystic's  preparation,  the  process  of 
elimination,  the  cutting  away  of  other  objects  and  interests 
and  desires,  both  outer  and  inner,  which  would  prevent 
entire  absorption  in  the  single  and  supreme  object.  The  great 
worshipers  have  always  insisted  upon  this  preparation  and 
have  themselves  practiced  the  most  severe  rigors  to  ensure  its 
character. 

But  we  are  here,  rather,  beginning  on  the  lower  and  ordi- 
nary plane  of  the  experience  of  beauty,  which  may  befall 
without  any  preparation.  The  object  presents  itself;  we  are 
passive.  "Sir  Henry  Irving  'presents'  Macbeth."  So  a  flower, 
the  light  on  a  wide  water,  an  opera,  a  poem,  a  statue,  a  song, 
a  noble  building,  a  s}TTiphony,  a  mountain,  presents  itself  to 
us;  it  comes  forward  to  meet  us,  it  enlarges,  it  draws  and 
absorbs,  it  becomes  for  the  moment  our  world.  So,  too,  if  the 
object  be  seen  of  the  inner  eye  only — humanity,  the  uni- 
verse, God. 

The  first  reaction  or  feeling  is  that  of  self-abnegation, 
littleness,  humility.  You  go  to  the  opera  and  say,  I  could 
never  write  an  opera  like  that  if  I  lived  a  thousand  years. 
You  ride  alone  over  the  desert.  The  weight  of  years,  the 
spaces  of  land  and  sky  overwhelm  you.  This  body  of  loveli- 
ness, a  rose,  a  sonata,  so  finished  and  exquisite,  this  inde- 
scribable perfection  of  form  or  color  or  sound,  this  is  of 
another  order  and  another  world  than  your  own.  It  humbles 


I 


145 


Art  &  Religion  ^ 

and  belittles.  You  are  outclassed.  You  feel  small ;  your  own  , 
life  and  labor  and  lot  are  not  right  or  good  to  you  now  that ! 
you  have  seen  this  excellence.  You  are  dissatisfied  with  your- 
self  and  all  your  works.  You  have  no  taste  for  common  life  ; 
now  that  you  have  tasted  God.  Here — say  you — here  let  me  | 
abide;  here  is  life,  life  desirable  and  original  and  sweet,  j 
immortal  life;  here  is  my  true  home  and  dwelling  place,  j 
Your  common  life  seems  pale  and  awry  and  wrong.  You  are  | 
ashamed  of  your  achievement  in  the  presence  of  this  perfect  | 
beauty;  you  are  humbled  and  penitent  before  the  awful : 
sublimities  of  the  divine  presentment.  ' 

Then  a  strange  thing  happens,  strange  for  its  swift  and  I 
powerful  force.  This  body  of  beauty,  this  symbolized  ideal 
or  truth,  this  great  existence  comes  into  you,  fills  and  pos 
sesses  and  enlarges  you.  You  say,  No,  I  could  never  write  ■ 
such  an  opera — no,  but  something  I  can  do,  something  I,  too, 
can  make,  with  the  same  finish  and  power;  I,  too,  can  pro- 
duce a  noble  work,  perfect  as  this  vase  or  tower  or  starry 
heavens.  Your  humiliation  is  changed  to  dignity,  your  dejec- 
tion to  exaltation. 

St.  Augustine  very  precisely  describes  this  swift  change 
from  penitence  to  salvation  in  the  experience  of  worship, 
the  experience  of  God.  "I  tremble  and  I  burn;  I  tremble  feel- 
ing I  am  unlike  Him;  I  burn  feeling  that  I  am  like  Him." 
Self-abnegation  is  followed  by  self-realization,  weakness  by 
power.  Your  smallness  is  gone,  your  shame  removed,  and 
your  sins  forgiven.  You  experience  ecstasy,  renewal,  salva- 
tion. Warrior  kings  have  always  known  and  used  these 
power-engendering  arts.  The  pipes  and  drums  and  bugles 
have  always  gathered  troops  and  led  them  to  the  fray;  they 
have  put  fire  in  the  blood,  courage  in  the  heart,  and  probably 
actual  physical  strength  in  sinew  and  muscle.  I  believe  that 
one  of  the  unfailing  accompaniments  of  a  genuine  experi- 
ence of  beauty  or  a  genuine  experience  of  worship  is  a 
heightening  of  all  the  vital  powers. 

Swiftly  still  the  experience  moves  forward  to  another 
stage  and  scene.  Between  the  single  object  and  the  fas- 
cinated eye  there  moves  a  screen  of  memory.  Into  this  holy 
place  obtrudes  the  common  world.  That  ordinary  life  from 

•  146- 


The  Mysticism  of  Isaiah 

which  you  have  come  and  to  which  you  must  soon  return 
breaks  in  upon  your  mystic  hour.  But  what  a  strange  world 
it  is.  It  cannot  look  the  same,  for  now  you  have  new  eyes. 
You  see  it  as  from  the  heights.  Your  new  vitality  has  given 
the  imagination  an  unwonted  lift  and  range.  Here  between 
the  masses  and  harmonies  of  a  symphony  and  your  rapt 
sense  there  floats  in  the  world  of  practical  life,  but  it  floats 
like  clouds  with  ever  changing  shapes.  Its  values  shift  and 
change.  The  unworthy  sinks,  the  true  and  the  good  emerge 
and  grow.  Faiths  and  hopes  are  given  new  life.  Certain 
realities  are  freshly  freighted  with  import  and  significance. 
Old  things  pass  away,  all  things  are  become  new. 

The  mystics  have  always  claimed  new  revelations.  Ac- 
cording to  the  view  we  are  considering,  it  is  not  really  a  new 
scene  that  is  given  in  the  experience  of  worship  but  a  new 
eye  to  see ;  not  new  truths  but  a  new  seer.  The  actual  increase 
in  physical  and  imaginative  power  in  the  midst  of  the  ex- 
perience enables  men  to  see  their  world  more  clearly  and 
truly.  It  is  questionable  whether  the  experience  of  beauty  as 
such  gives  any  entirely  new  world,  any  improved  morality. 
It  seems  rather  to  clarify  the  world  that  is  brought  to  it.  If 
that  world  already  contains  a  noble  and  adequate  ethical 
principle,  it  will  be  revivified  and  expanded,  but  not  neces- 
sarily changed  fundamentally. 

This  would  appear  to  be  the  explanation  of  the  very  dif- 
ferent thought  content  set  forth  by  equally  devoted  and 
assured  mystics.  This  would  appear  also  to  explain  some- 
what the  lack  and  shortage  in  the  merely  aesthetic  world. 
The  enjoyment  of  beauty  is  sought  for  its  own  sake  by  those 
who  come  to  it  without  any  previous  moral  ideal  or  purpose. 
To  such  the  experience  does  not  necessarily  oifer  any  moral 
content.  The  power  and  vitality  engendered  is  consumed  in 
its  own  fire  and  has  no  valuable  practical  issue.  Many  have 
defended  this  very  conception  as  the  true  and  characteristic 
aesthetic  experience.  I  do  not  believe  that  it  is,  even  from 
the  strictly  aesthetic  point  of  view,  certainly  not  from  the 
fuller  view  of  a  more  rounded  ethical  person. 

The  experience,  if  true  to  type,  then  passes,  still  swiftly, 
to  its  final  stage.  Not  long  since  you  were  saying.  Here  is 


Art  &  Religion  ^ 

life,  desira:ble  and  original;  this  is  the  moment  I  desire  to  j 
stay,  it  is  so  fair.  But  into  that  moment  came  drifting  the  \ 
world  of  common  life,  faint  and  shadowy,  obscuring  the  j 
great  object,  perhaps  to  pass  and  return  and  pass  again.  At  j 
length  it  must  remain,  changed,  clear,  alluring,  illumined.  At  | 
some  point  comes  the  choice.  You  cannot  stay  in  the  theater  | 
all  night,  and  soon  you  will  not  want  to ;  the  flame  dies  out  i 
of  the  western  sky  and  you  are  ready  to  let  it  pass;  the  ; 
singers  wind  out  of  the  sanctuary,  the  temple  courts  will  be  ; 
silent  soon,  but  not  sooner  than  you  are  eager  to  be  off  on  ! 
the  enterprise  you  have  seen  to  be  right  and  good  by  the  ; 
mystical  light.  In  your  heart  is  new  loyalty  and  dedication,  ; 
a  clear  and  practical  attitude  toward  the  common  world.       j 

If  this  is  not  good  aesthetics,  it  is  good  religion.  There  is  i 
no  sufficient  reason  to  deny  that  it  is  good  aesthetics,  save  an  ■ 
arbitrary  definition  and  the  limitation  of  the  effect  of  beauty  • 
to  the  static  only.  So  to  limit  the  content  of  the  experience  is  ■ 
to  foster  aesthetic  debauchery  and  the  literal  dissipation  of  \ 
the  noblest  human  powers.  The  true  experience  of  beauty  \ 
and  of  worship  would  seem  alike  to  have  issue  in  this  mood  i 
of  consecration  and  purpose.  ■ 

Just  this  course  of  experience  is  described  by  the  great  ! 
eighth  century  prophet  Isaiah  as  having  been  his  "in  the  year  ' 
that  King  Uzziah  died."  I  know  of  no  other  writing  which  ; 
so  brilliantly,  briefly  and  completely  sets  forth  the  nature  of  \ 
a  human  experience  of  God,  its  character  and  consequences.  | 
With  few  and  bold  strokes,  he  draws  a  picture  of  religion —  i 
ecstasy,  humility,  salvation,  clarification,  consecration.  He  j 
reports  the  power  and  effect  of  public  worship  and  the  whole  | 
course  of  his  own  repentance,  cleansing,  illumination,  and  | 
enlistment.  j 

Isaiah  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  gifts  of  mind  and  ] 
person.  He  was  a  leader  in  the  nation,  a  courtier,  close  to  j 
the  throne  and  the  affairs  of  state.  On  the  death  of  his  king,  i 
after  a  long  and  prosperous  reign,  he  was  disturbed  and  I 
troubled  by  internal  conditions  of  wrong  and  by  impending  \ 
perils  from  without  dangerous  to  the  nation  and  the  royal  i 
power.  Pondering  these  things,  he  went  up  to  the  temple  of  I 
his  God.  There,  whether  it  was  the  smoke  that  rose  from  the  ; 

.148.  . 


The  Mysticism  of  Isaiah 

great  altar  of  sacrifice,  or  the  music  of  the  singers  responding 
from  side  to  side  of  the  temple  courts,  or  the  golden  figures 
of  the  winged  cherubim,  or  all  these  together,  something  set 
his  thoughts  and  imagination  rising.  He  had  a  sense  of  the 
divine.  He  had  an  experience  of  the  presence  of  God,  in- 
effable and  awful,  like  those  of  Paul  and  Augustine,  Tauler 
and  Saint  Theresa. 

"In  the  year  that  king  Uzziah  died  I  saw  .  .  .  the  Lord 
.  .  .  high  and  lifted  up,  and  his  train  filled  the  temple. 
Above  it  stood  the  seraphims :  each  one  had  six  wings ;  with 
twain  he  covered  his  face,  and  with  twain  he  covered  his 
feet,  and  with  twain  he  did  fly.  And  one  cried  unto  another, 
and  said.  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord  of  hosts :  the  whole 
earth  is  full  of  his  glory.  x\nd  the  posts  of  the  door  moved 
at  the  voice  of  him  that  cried,  and  the  house  was  filled  with 
smoke." 

Such  an  experience  few  men  have  in  the  course  of  mortal 
life.  Plotinus  said  that  in  his  lifetime  he  had  enjoyed  only 
four  such  supreme  seasons  of  divine  communion.  Bernard 
wrote  that  only  once  or  twice  could  a  man  rise  to  such  a  sense 
of  the  mystic  union  with  God  as  he  tried  to  describe.  Yet 
something  like  this  many  men  have  and  many  times. 

Isaiah's  first  response  to  this  sense  of  God  was  a  feeling  of 
great  humility  and  sinfulness.  He  beheld  how  high  and  holy 
God  is;  how  unapproachable  and  awful  and  dangerous  is  his 
being  and  presence : 

"In  the  year  that  king  Uzziah  died  I  saw  .  .  .  the  Lord 
.   .   .  high  and  lifted  up  .   .    . 

"Then  said  I,  Woe  is  me !  for  I  am  undone ;  because  I  am 
a  man  of  unclean  lips,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  a  people 
of  unclean  lips;  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord 
of  hosts." 

Then  swiftly — as  winds  fly  to  fill  the  empty  space,  as 
waters  rush  through  opened  gates,  swiftly  as  the  Spirit  of 
the  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity  ever  moves 
to  visit  contrite  hearts,  so  swiftly — 

"Then  flew  one  of  the  seraphims  unto  me,  having  a  live 
coal  in  his  hand,  which  he  had  taken  with  the  tongs  from 
off  the  altar:  and  he  laid  it  upon  my  mouth,  and  said,  Lo, 

.149. 


Art  &  Religion  I 

this  hath  touched  thy  lips;  and  thine  iniquity  is  taken  away, 

and  thy  sin  purged."  ,1 

To  have  some  sense  of  the  universe,  to  behold  the  starry  1 

heavens,  to  see  the  lifted  Christ,  to  think  on  God,  and  so  to  < 

be  overwhelmed,  humbled,  shamed  at  the  littleness  and  sin  j 

of  your  life  is  to  invite  the  coming  of  power,  the  rush  of  the  ] 

wind  of  the  breath  of  the  Spirit  of  God  to  heal  and  cleanse,  I 

to  fill  and  enlarge  and  restore  and  leave  the  joy  of  salvation.  | 

And  then  Isaiah  remembered  his  common  world,  his  city,  \ 

his  king,  his  nation  with  its  troubled  and  perilous  life.  It  had  , 

become  clear  to  him  what  word  needed  to  be  said  and  he  I 

knew  that  he  must  say  it.  ; 

"Also  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  saying.  Whom  shall  i 

I  send,  and  who  will  go  for  US'?  Then  said  I,  Here  am  I;  \ 

send  me."  I 

This  is  the  course  and  order  of  an  experience  of  worship,  , 

an  experience  of  the  sense  of  God — up  from  the  world  of  the  i 

many  to  the  overworld  of  the  One,  back  to  the  world  of  the  | 

many  to  fulfil  the  will  of  the  One.  j 

Something  like  the  great  experience  of  Isaiah  is  what  the  \ 

worship  of  the  church  ought  to  help  people  to  have.  Some-  ■ 

thing  like  that  experience  people  do  have  over  and  again  out-  | 

side  of  the  church,  not  always  or  even  usually  complete,  but  • 
rich,  varied,  overwhelming,  exalting,  enjoyable,  vitalizing, 

in  their  contact  with  nature  or  the  arts.  ■ 

We  who  love  the  church  have  ourselves  chiefly  to  blame  \ 

if  so  large  a  part  of  the  community  finds  its  instinct  and  ■ 

desire  for  worship  satisfied  by  the  theater  and  the  music  hall,  ; 
the  museum  of  art,  or  the  free  and  individual  enjoyment  of 
the  out  of  doors. 

Yet  the  world  of  the  artist  and  nature  lover  is  also  to 
blame  that  its  culture  of  the  spirit  has  so  often  stopped  short 
of  the  true  heights  of  the  spirit.  It  has  too  often  been  content 
with  an  experience  of  lifted  feeling  without  valuable  prac- 
tical issue.  It  has  tried  to  persuade  itself  that  its  own  world 
is  the  only  real  world,  a  world  of  refuge  from  common  life, 
a  compensation  for  common  toils.  Religion  would  take  up 
the  common  world  and  look  at  it  with  new  eyes  and  go  back 

.150. 


The  Mysticism  of  Isaiah 

to  it  with  new  power  and  commitment,  not  compensating 
for  common  toils  but  suffusing  them  with  its  own  glory. 

There  are  important  differences  between  the  aesthetic  and 
the  religious  experiences.  We  are  rather  here  interested  in 
these  points  of  likeness  or  perhaps  more  properly  of  identity. 
Entirely  apart  from  the  nature  of  the  absorbing  object, 
whether  it  be  finite  or  infinite,  and  apart  also  from  the  moral 
or  intellectual  content  of  the  experience,  there  would  appear 
to  be  an  identity  in  course  or  process  or  in  some  of  the  major 
elements  of  the  sense  of  beauty  and  the  sense  of  God.  There 
is  something  about  the  experience,  whether  of  art  or  of  wor- 
ship, to  be  enjoyed  for  its  own  sake,  an  end  in  itself,  but 
also  something  essentially  untrue  and  wrong  in  any  claim 
of  mystic  communion  which  does  not  result  in  new  values 
seen  in  the  common  world,  cleansing  from  littleness,  sin  and 
isolation,  and  the  definite  dedication  to  some  service  of  that 
enlarged  vitality  engendered  in  the  experience. 

Vision,  Humility,  Vitality,  Illumination,  Enlistment — 
these  constitute  the  experience  of  worship,  and  these  may  all 
be  kindled  in  the  experience  of  beauty. 


151 


Chapter  XVI :  The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

THE  order  of  service  for  public  worship  cannot  be 
much  improved  until  we  discover  or  select  a  princi- 
ple to  go  upon.  There  has  been  more  or  less  attempt 
at  defining  the  functions  of  different  liturgical  parts  and 
some  analysis  of  their  emotional  effects.  Here  and  there 
much  good  psychology  has  been  applied  to  the  betterment 
of  ugly  and  disjointed  orders  of  common  worship.  There  has 
been  discarding,  enrichment,  elaboration.  But  on  the  whole 
there  is  everywhere  evidence  of  the  merest  patchwork  and 
carpentry  in  the  arrangement  of  the  exercises  of  Protestant 
worship.  What  we  first  require  is  some  guiding  theory  to 
help  the  practical  problem  of  developing  a  unified,  beauti- 
ful, and  effective  liturgy. 

The  theory  here  proposed  is  a  very  simple  one — that  the 
outward  expression  in  the  service  of  worship  should  parallel 
the  inner  course  of  the  experience  of  worship.  The  difficul- 
ties of  this  are  many  and  great.  The  experience  itself  is  com- 
plex and  elusive  and  largely  uncontrollable.  It  may  happen 
on  a  sudden  and  unexpectedly;  it  may  come  when  desired 
and  prepared  for;  it  may  escape  just  when  all  the  conditions 
seem  most  favorable.  It  may  be  long-sustained  and  filled 
with  a  variety  of  intellectual  contents;  it  may  be  brief  and 
pointed,  its  whole  course  finished  in  a  few  moments.  How, 
then,  give  it  concurrent  expression  in  any  manner  so  set  and 
prearranged  as  an  order  of  public  worship"?  Nevertheless, 
through  all  the  innumerable  variations  in  stimulus,  tone, 
intensity,  content  of  ideas,  recurrence,  duration,  conclusion, 
there  would  appear  to  be  always  in  its  normal  course  some- 
thing of  each  of  the  elements  suggested — Vision,  Humility, 
Exaltation,  Illumination,  Dedication. 

If  this  analysis  of  the  experience  is  anything  like  correct, 
it  would  suggest,  first  of  all,  as  applied  to  our  practical  prob- 
lem, public  expression  of  that  humility  and  sense  of  small- 

.152. 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

ness  which  is  the  first  natural  response  to  the  realities  that 
induce  the  experience.  This  is  precisely  what  all  the  old 
liturgies  of  the  Christian  church  contain — Confitior,  Kyrie 
Eleison,  General  Confession. 

It  is  true  that  the  "sense  of  sin"  seems  not  very  prevalent, 
and  is  in  some  quarters  thought  to  be  an  unworthy  and  un- 
necessary part  of  the  religous  experience.  But  if  we  are  at 
this  point  getting  off  the  track  religiously,  a  study  of  the 
artistic  experience  will  speedily  restore  our  spiritual  nor- 
mality. It  would  appear  to  admit  of  no  doubt  that  a  sense 
of  weakness,  inadequacy,  imperfection,  is  the  first  and  often 
very  powerful  reaction  to  the  presentation  of  whatever  body 
of  beauty  really  succeeds  in  reaching  us.  How  much  more 
is  the  same  effect  induced  when  we  find  ourselves  set  over 
against  a  real  presentation  of  the  whole  of  reality,  of  the 
being  and  presence  of  God.  The  sense  of  sin,  the  sense  of 
personal  delinquency  and  shame,  of  moral  imperfection,  of 
metaphysical  smallness,  of  inconsequential  selfhood,  of  indi- 
vidual guilt  in  social  tragedy — this  sense  is  neither  un- 
natural nor  forced  nor  weak  nor  out  of  date.  It  is  a  per- 
manent element  in  the  spiritual  experience  of  mankind, 
involved  both  in  the  experience  of  moral  evil  and  the  sub- 
stance of  metaphysical  limitations.  If  this  be  true,  the 
expression  of  the  experience  is  a  proper  and  necessary  part 
of  the  exercise  of  worship. 

The  most  of  such  exercises  do  include  an  expression  of 
penitence.  Usually,  however,  it  receives  too  slight  attention, 
a  few  phrases  in  the  midst  of  a  long  prayer  including  many 
other  feelings  and  ideas.  Such  a  brief  and  incidental  expres- 
sion of  humility  is  altogether  inadequate  and  ineffective.  It 
should  be  one  of  the  principal  liturgical  parts, — if  possible 
expressed  by  all  the  people,  rather  than  by  the  minister  only, 
— though  not  necessarily  a  long  part.  And  so  it  is  in  the  old 
liturgies,  which  are  at  this  point  right,  as  the  most  of  non- 
liturgical  practice  is  wrong.  Some  of  our  recently  improved 
Protestant  services  have  therefore  restored  the  use  of  the 
General  Confession  from  the  English  Prayer  Book.  Others 
use  the  beautiful  prayer  in  the  Fifty-first  Psalm,  either  in 

•153- 


Art  &  Religion 

unison  or  responsive  recital.  Others  use  freshly  written 
prayers  of  confession. 

But  this  prayer  should  not  be  the  first  part  of  the  service. 
The  sense  of  smallness  or  the  sense  of  sin  or  humility  is  not 
something  you  can  produce  out  of  your  own  consciousness; 
it  happens  to  you.  It  is  induced  in  you  by  the  contact  of 
something  larger  which  humbles  you,  something  better  that 
shames  you.  Just  here  is  a  weakness  of  the  Episcopal  liturgv\ 
There  is  nothing  sufficiently  impressive  preceding  the  Gen- 
eral Confession  to  make  you  feel  like  confessing  your  sins. 

There  is  commonly  a  Processional  Hjinn,  but  the  value 
of  this  is  largely  its  effect  as  a  curtain  raiser  that  serves  to 
focus  scattered  attention,  merge  the  individuals  into  a 
congregation,  and  generally  to  warn  everybody  that  the  ex- 
ercise has  begun.  Following  the  hymn  there  is  a  call  to 
worship  and  summons  to  repentance  altogether  too  brief  and 
too  slender  to  work  the  miracle  expected  of  it. 

This  is  probably  the  point  of  greatest  weakness  in  most 
exercises  of  public  worship.  It  would  not  be  so  if  some 
spiritual  preparation  on  the  part  of  the  average  worshiper 
could  be  expected  or  counted  upon,  but  it  cannot  be.  People 
do  not,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  arrive  at  church,  after  a  late 
breakfast  and  the  Sunday  morning  paper,  at  all  prepared  in 
spirit  to  fall  upon  their  knees  and  confess  their  sins.  I  have 
at  times  felt  like  devising  some  sort  of  ante-chamber  to  the 
Lord's  House,  some  place  of  purgation,  some  door  of  leaving 
behind,  in  order  that  people  might  be  prepared  worthily  to 
worship  and  happily  to  enjoy  its  benefits,  but  this  is  doubt- 
less impractical.  It  is  altogether  possible,  however,  greatly  to 
improve  the  opening  of  the  service. 

A  Processional  Hymn,  as  suggested,  is  the  oldest  and  best 
means  for  the  very  initial  matter  of  unifying  attention, 
without  too  much  demand  upon  it  at  first.  The  usual  Protes- 
tant practice  opens  the  service  with  three  or  four  items,  each 
too  brief  or  too  familiar  to  be  either  very  interesting  or  very 
impressive.  They  fail  to  take  sharp  hold  upon  the  attention 
or  to  stir  much  of  any  movement  amongst  the  emotive  facul- 
ties of  the  worshiper.  The  Invocation  is  the  only  opportunity 
for  fresh  material,  but  so  brief  a  prayer  must  needs  be 

.154. 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

supremely  well  done  to  carry  its  effect.  Not  many  men  can 
do  it  supremely  well. 

In  the  Roman  Mass  the  priest's  Preparation  followed 
by  the  Introit  is  a  more  extended  and  impressive  exercise, 
serving  also  to  prepare  the  people  to  offer  their  own  first 
prayer  of  confession  in  the  Kyrie  Eleison.  All  these  parts 
are  the  same  for  every  day  except  the  Introit.  This  latter  is  a 
very  interesting  number,  a  curtailed  relic  of  a  longer  antiph- 
onal  exercise  used  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  church  to  open 
the  service,  different  each  day,  in  general  announcing  the 
special  character  and  ideas  of  the  day;  this  in  turn  going 
back  to  the  antiphonal  psalms  of  the  Jewish  liturgy. 

Here  is  something  that  can  be  effectively  restored,  yield- 
ing the  value  of  ancient  usages,  but  capable  of  fresh  content. 
Why  not  displace  the  three  or  four  ineffective  items  with 
which  our  service  is  usually  opened,  by  a  solid  number, 
longer,  more  beautiful,  more  timely,  more  gripping  and  im- 
pressive? Such  an  Introit  has  been  tried  with  very  decided 
improvement  in  the  dignity,  interest,  and  imaginative  con- 
tent of  the  early  part  of  the  service.  It  is  a  simple  responsive 
service  between  minister  and  choir,  the  minister  reading,  the 
choir  singing;  two  or  three  responses  for  each.  It  sets  forth 
the  theme  of  the  day,  or  at  least  the  area  in  which  the  theme 
lies. 

In  actual  practice  it  has  been  found  eminently  worth 
while  freshly  to  select  material  for  the  Introit  each  Sunday, 
as  nearly  as  possible  that  which  would  form  an  introduction 
to  the  thought  of  the  sermon.  There  is  a  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  whether  the  service  of  worship  should  revolve  about 
the  same  theme  as  the  sermon.  There  are  evidently  advan- 
tages in  a  seasonal  development  of  spiritual  themes  set  forth 
in  a  church  year  arrangement  of  the  liturgy  independent  of 
sermon  themes.  Such  a  plan  assures  a  comprehensive  charac- 
ter to  the  worship  of  the  year,  perhaps  more  full  and  better 
balanced  than  the  sermon  subjects  are  liable  to  be.  Also  it 
provides  for  a  more  or  less  complete  setting  forth  of  helpful 
spiritual  suggestion  for  the  worshipers,  no  matter  what  the 
subject  matter  of  the  sermon  may  be.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  undoubtedly  great  force  in  the  arrangement  of  a 

.155. 


Art  &  Religion 

unified  service  from  organ  prelude  to  benediction,  the 
sermon  included. 

It  must  fairly  be  charged  that  in  altogether  too  many  free 
churches,  the  service  of  worship  is  neither  one  of  these 
things.  It  does  not  form  an  interesting  or  a  comprehensive 
course  of  experience  by  itself;  it  does  not  form  a  very  exact 
introduction  to  the  sermon.  On  the  whole,  it  will  probably 
be  found  that  the  average  preacher  covers  a  fairly  wide 
range  of  ideas  in  the  course  of  a  year's  work.  He  very  natu- 
rally takes  advantage  of  the  more  notable  seasonal  feelings 
and  makes  occasions  for  the  presentation  of  those  matters 
which  relate  to  the  practical  parish  life  also.  Some  sort  of 
church  year  plan  is  therefore  very  natural,  if  not  inevi- 
table. It  need  not  be  rigid,  as  the  old  liturgies  are,  and 
should  not  be. 

It  is  possible  for  the  most  of  the  Sundays  of  the  year  to 
have  a  service  of  worship  which  fits  naturally  into  a  compre- 
hensive year  plan,  and  which  also  is  in  itself,  with  the 
sermon,  a  completely  harmonious  presentation.  I  believe 
that  each  service  should  be  a  dramatic  unity  from  start  to 
finish.  It  is  very  difficult  for  this  unity  to  make  itself  felt 
by  all  the  worshipers  unless  at  the  very  beginning  of  the 
service  there  is  a  strong,  pertinent,  and  fairly  full  introduc- 
tory announcement  of  the  thought  of  the  day. 

The  first  value  of  an  Introit  is  the  increase  in  the  sense  of 
unity  throughout  the  service,  if  this  opening  number  has  a 
sufficiently  distinctive  intellectual  content  to  be  noted  at  the 
moment,  and  later  remembered,  when  the  same  thoughts 
appear  in  Scripture  lessons,  prayers,  and  in  the  sermon. 
There  is  certainly  great  value  also  in  the  fresh  ideas  of  such 
an  exercise  as  compared  with  the  familiar  material  of  the 
usual  opening  numbers — Call  to  Worship,  Doxology,  Invo- 
cation, Choir  Response,  Lord's  Prayer,  Gloria.  The  desirable 
sense  of  familiarity  may  be  derived  not  from  its  content  but 
from  its  form.  In  any  work  of  art,  form  and  content  work 
together  toward  the  total  impression,  the  form  serving  to 
elevate  and  intensify  the  content.  It  is  notable  that  the  brief 
responses  b}^  the  choir  quiet  and  attract  the  hearers  so  that 
the  intervening  portions,  as  read,  carry  a  more  weighty  im- 

■  156. 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

pressiveness.  And  if  the  content  be  fresh  and  pertinent,  its 
ideas  are  eagerly  attended  to. 

Another  great  merit  of  such  an  exercise  is  the  improve- 
ment in  the  dignity  of  music  in  the  service.  Members  of  the 
choir,  singing  in  such  a  responsive  service,  seem  not  to  be 
artists  rendering  a  concert  number,  as  too  often  they  do  in 
many  church  services,  but  rather  ministers  in  the  sanctuary 
taking  part  in  the  service  of  God. 

Another  more  subtle  effect  of  the  exercise  is  the  result 
of  its  declarative  character,  the  feeling  that  the  Church  has 
something  definite  to  say.  The  sermon  is  the  minister's  word, 
the  word  of  the  prophet;  the  Scripture  reading  is  the  Bible's 
word;  the  words  of  the  Introit,  though  they  be  taken  largely 
from  the  Bible,  seem  somehow  to  be  so  set  forth  as  to  repre- 
sent rather  the  present  faith  and  pronouncement  of  the 
Church,  proclaiming  the  reality  and  nature  of  God.  Such 
a  note  and  such  an  impression  are  in  this  day  of  uncertain- 
ties more  than  ever  needed. 

In  our  view,  then,  the  ordinary  Sunday  service  should  be 
opened,  not  with  the  several  brief  and  for  the  most  part 
familiar  numbers  of  the  usual  usage,  but  with  a  longer,  more 
rich,  freshly  prepared  exercise,  presented  by  the  minister 
and  choirs,  which  is  at  once  praise  to  God  and  pronounce- 
ment to  the  people.  If  this  is  successful,  it  becomes  the  pre- 
sentation of  that  reality  over  against  which  the  smallness 
and  weakness  of  human  life  become  evident.  It  is  the  neces- 
sary antecedent  to  the  experience  of  humility  and  the  expres- 
sion of  penitence.  This  expression  should  come  next,  in  some 
prayer  of  general  confession,  as  has  been  suggested. 

The  low  point  in  the  experience  does  not  last  long,  nor 
should  its  expression.  The  mystic  alternation  moves  swiftly; 
the  sense  of  fulness  and  the  rushing  tide  of  revival  flow 
fast  upon  the  acknowledgment  of  emptiness  and  unworthi- 
ness.  Whoever  beholds  the  truth  and  is  humbled  by  it  is 
speedily  enlarged  and  elevated  by  it.  Nothing  is  more  uni- 
versally testified  by  artists  and  mystics  alike  than  the 
heightened  vitality  and  increased  imagination  produced  in 
any  real  moment  of  direct  and  immediate  experience  of 
reality. 

.157. 


Art  &  Religion 

This  sense  of  fulness  must  find  early  and  rich  expression 
in  the  service  of  worship.  Only  long  experiment  and  patient 
observation  can  determine  the  best  manner  of  this  expres- 
sion. A  doxology,  a  noble  hymn  of  praise,  a  worthy  anthem, 
may  follow  the  prayer  of  confession,  to  give  expression  to 
the  exaltation  which  presumably  is  the  concurrent  element 
in  the  experience  as  we  are  following  its  unfolding  course. 

Henceforth  we  are  on  more  difficult  and  complicated 
ground.  For  here  begins  occurrence  of  the  practical  world, 
the  process  of  filling  the  imaginative  forms  with  a  definite 
intellectual  content,  the  process  of  the  back  and  forth  swing 
between  the  One  and  the  many,  the  peace  and  fulness  of  the 
One,  the  remembered  urgencies  of  the  many. 

Here  lies  the  inadequacy  of  the  world  of  the  arts  without 
religion  and  the  definite  morality  demanded  by  definite  reli- 
gious faith.  It  has  not  provided  a  sufficiently  thoughtful 
moral  content.  In  the  order  of  worship,  there  should  come, 
therefore,  as  they  usually  do,  after  the  expression  of  exalta- 
tion. Scripture  lessons  and  prayer.  These  exercises  serve  to 
fill  with  definite  ideas  the  uplifted  consciousness  which  is 
nevertheless  as  yet  a  vague  and  unordered  one.  They  serve 
to  call  up  the  world  of  the  many  into  the  illuminated  state 
and  to  begin  the  formation  of  working  faiths.  Miss  Under- 
bill refers  to  them  as  "a  group  of  actions  which  seem  a  fitting 
symbol  of  the  varied  powers  and  duties  proper  to  that  illum- 
inated consciousness,  flowing  out  in  charity  to  God  and  man, 
which  has  now  been  achieved."* 

In  any  case,  the  nature  of  the  experience  at  this  point  is 
characterized  by  illumination,  clarification,  the  rearrange- 
ment of  all  things  as  seen  in  the  new  light  of  all  things. 
This  is  therefore  the  point  in  the  service  for  whatever  pre- 
sentation will  help  to  make  this  experience  definite.  The 
reading  of  ancient  Scriptures  may  serve  to  continue  the 
declaration  of  universal  or  divine  truths;  or  it  may  serve  to 
set  forth  the  record  of  previous  human  experience  of  the 
divine  realities  and  powers ;  or  more  probably  it  may  do  both 
for  such  of  the  hearers  as  have  made  a  successful  adventure 
thus  far. 

*  Underbill,  "The  Mystic  Way,"  p.  348. 

.158. 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

So,  also,  the  prayers  and  collects  in  this  part  of  the  service 
should  be  largely  of  a  pastoral  character,  serving  to  continue 
the  sense  of  the  divine  outlook  and  to  express  the  desires  of 
the  worshipers  for  the  world  and  those  whom  they  love  in  it, 
according  as  those  desires  have  now  been  purified  and  inten- 
sified in  the  experience. 

Both  of  these  exercises,  presumably  begun  after  the  infill- 
ing and  enlargement  of  the  vital  powers,  constitute  the 
remembrance  of  the  practical  world,  now  changed,  revalued, 
glorified,  as  seen  by  the  eyes  which  have  been  opened  to  the 
mystic  vision.  They  fill  with  a  definite  moral  content  the 
otherwise  vague  and  unreflective  imaginative  outlook. 

According  to  our  theory,  there  should  follow  next  an 
expression  of  faith.  The  worshiper  having  had  presented  to 
him  a  declaration  of  truth,  or,  inwardly,  a  vision  of  Divinity; 
having  expressed  the  humility  and  penitence  that  is  his 
natural  reaction;  having  shared  the  service  of  praise  for  the 
revival  and  enlargement  next  swiftly  following;  having  seen 
with  fresh  eyes  a  new  earth  as  well  as  a  new  heaven;  he  is 
prepared  to  say  what  it  is  that  in  the  light  of  all  these  things 
he  now  believes.  This  is  the  point  for  whatever  Credo  the 
service  contains. 

Protestantism,  historically,  has  made  much  use  of  the 
recital  of  some  creed.  Of  late  larger  and  larger  numbers  of 
churches  have  omitted  any  such  exercise,  moved  by  the 
changes  in  thought  and  the  frequent  deprecation  of  creeds 
in  general.  It  is,  of  course,  only  weak  and  foolish  to  be  too 
easily  swept  off  our  feet  by  unintelligent  outcry  against 
creeds.  You  have  to  believe  something  or  other  before  you 
can  walk  around  the  block.  You  certainly  have  to  have  some 
sort  of  working  philosophy  of  life,  however  tentative  or 
temporary,  to  form  any  kind  of  society.  One  of  the  effects  of 
the  artistic  experience,  as  well  as  the  religious  experience, 
is  to  fix,  at  least  for  a  time,  a  sense  of  whatever  seems  at  the 
time  to  be  valuable  or  real  or  important.  This  is  precisely 
what  a  creed  is.  There  is  unquestionably  very  great  good  to 
be  derived  from  the  attempt  to  state  as  definitely  and  clearly 
as  possible  from  time  to  time  the  central  matters  of  one's 
belief.  And  if  anyone  objects  too  seriously  to  this,  he  may 

.159. 


Art  &  Religion 

always — after  the  fashion  of  Cicero  concerning  Carthage —  : 
write  down  as  the  last  clause  of  his  creed  his  belief  that  all  ; 
these  statements  will  some  day  be  changed  for  the  better.        I 

At  this  place  in  our  own  order  of  worship,  we  are  just  I 
now  using  an  arrangement  which  serves  at  once  two  or  three  ' 
purposes.  After  the  period  devoted  to  Scriptures  and  prayers,  ' 
the  people  stand  for  a  triple  exercise,  the  familiar  Doxology,  i 
a  Confession  of  Faith,  and  the  Gloria  Patri.  One  of  the  uses 
of  this  plan  is  to  relieve  the  recital  of  a  confession  from  a  | 
certain  abruptness  and  coldness  which  it  might  have  by  ; 
itself  alone.  A  much  more  important  purpose  is  the  need  for  , 
continuing  throughout  the  service  the  sense  of  elevation  and 
the  praise  expressing  it  which  is,  so  to  speak,  one  of  the  two  \ 
poles  of  the  alternating  experience.  Another  purpose  also  i 
achieved  by  this  simple  arrangement  is  the  lessening  of  the  j 
number  of  times  the  congregation  is  required  to  stand  or  be 
seated  during  the  service. 

There  yet  remains  a  final  stage  of  the  experience  to  be  ; 
expressed  in  the  service  of  worship,  the  mood  of  dedication,  I 
into  which  both  the  power  and  the  ideas  of  the  experience  ! 
should  be  directed.  The  natural  outlet  for  this  mood  is  the  ' 
offering.  By  itself,  however,  this  is  not  sufficient  to  stand  | 
also  for  the  larger  consecration  of  the  whole  life,  which  , 
should  be  felt  and  in  some  way  symbolized  in  the  service.  ; 
There  are  interesting  possibilities  for  experiment  in  the  ' 
direction  of  a  more  complete  expression  of  consecration  than  I 
the  most  of  our  services  contain,  centered  about  the  other-  ' 
wise  ugly  exercise  of  taking  up  the  collection.  I  have  not  met  ! 
with  any  usages  of  this  kind  which  are  satisfactory.  There  i 
is  a  fair  field  for  any  and  all  to  try  their  hand  at  improve-  | 
ment  in  this  particular.  I 

I  am  in  this  chapter  not  attempting  to  suggest  precisely  ; 
what  details  or  features  can  best  be  utilized  to  carry  out  this  \ 
conception  of  a  liturgy,  nor  is  this  the  place  to  discuss  the 
innumerable  possibilities  of  exceptional  services  prepared  | 
for  occasions  which  contain  in  themselves  rich  suggestiveness 
of  material.  Nor  am  I  here  interested  to  promote  any  prac- 
tices which  might  be  called  bizarre,  or  even  to  discuss  the 

•  160  • 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

more  brilHant  possibilities  open  to  such  great  churches  as 
have  at  their  command  extraordinary  resources  of  artistry. 

The  object  of  this  brief  study  is  rather  to  propose  a  simple 
theory  which  can  be  used  as  a  guide  in  our  experiments  for 
a  more  unified  and  beautiful  order  of  worship.  The  changes 
involved  in  following  this  guide  might  not  be  so  very  great 
in  many  churches,  superficially  considered.  The  matter  of 
particular  importance  just  now  is  the  discovery  and  applica- 
tion of  such  a  guiding  principle,  which,  if  a  true  principle, 
may  be  applied  to  modest  forms  and  materials  and  also  to 
the  use  of  the  most  difficult  and  extensive  literary,  musical, 
or  ritualistic  exercises.  The  theory  we  have  been  describing 
is  that  the  order  of  worship  should  parallel  the  experience 
of  worship. 

There  should  be,  then,  in  any  liturgy,  first  of  all,  some 
form  of  Presentation.  How  this  shall  best  be  accomplished 
is  a  matter  for  experimentation.  Some  will  wish  to  include 
under  this  caption  such  items  as  Call  to  Worship,  Invoca- 
tion, Scripture  Reading,  and  Anthem;  others  may  consider 
sufficient  a  brief  Salutation  before  passing  on  to  the  next 
main  division  of  the  order;  others  will  wish  to  make  further 
trial  of  some  such  exercise  as  above  described  and  called 
an  Introit.  In  any  case,  assuming  that  we  are  attempting  to 
follow  this  theory,  the  items  of  the  first  division  of  the  ser- 
vice must  be  chosen  for  their  usefulness  as  presentative  or 
declarative  material. 

The  second  main  division  in  the  order,  if  we  are  to 
parallel  the  experience,  is  a  Prayer  of  Penitence.  This  may 
be  spoken  by  the  minister  only,  as  representative  of  all,  or 
by  the  whole  congregation.  It  may  be  the  same  prayer  for 
every  service,  or  several  prayers  ma)^  be  used  in  order. 

The  third  division  is  Praise.  Here  also  different  items  may 
be  included,  such  as  a  doxology,  hymn,  prayer  of  thanks- 
giving, anthem,  or  responsive  reading.  Whether  one  or  all  of 
these  are  used,  the  function  and  purpose  are  the  same,  to 
give  utterance  to  the  sense  of  revival  and  enlargement  which 
is  itself  the  most  notable  and  characteristic  element  in  the 
mystic  experience. 

The  next  section  should  relate  itself  to  that  Illumination 

.i6i- 


Art  &  Religion 

which  presumably  has  been  achieved,  in  some  measure  at  i 
least,  or  else  the  whole  exercise  is  worthless.  Here  also  there  , 
may  be  great  difference  of  opinion  as  to  what  may  best  be  ] 
used,  both  to  further  the  experience  and  to  express  it.  The  | 
ones  I  have  suggested  are  Instruction  and  Petition;  the  one  ] 
calculated  to  fill  with  a  definite  content  of  ideas  and  moral  \ 
ideals  the  expanded  but  empty,  imaginative  house;  the  other  j 
devoted  to  setting  forth  common  desires  and  hopes  for  per-  - 
sons  who  now  seem  more  worth  saving,  and  for  the  preva-  \ 
lence  of  the  forces  which  now  seem  the  most  good.  The  close  i 
of  this  division  may  well  be  signalized  by  whatever  kind  of  \ 
Confession  of  Faith  may  truly  represent  the  realities  be- 
lieved and  trusted  by  the  people.  j 

The  closing  element  of  the  cycle  is  Dedication.  This  may  ; 
or  may  not  be  expressed  in  the  Offering.  There  is  certainly  ] 
much  to  be  desired  in  the  matter  of  fixing  and  pointing  pur-  ; 
poses  and  leading  on  to  decision  and  consecration  in  our  i 
services  of  worship.  The  value  of  the  experience  is  lost  if  it  : 
is  not  successful  at  this  stage.  Perhaps  someone  will  write  1 
new  hymns  or  responsive  exercises  of  enlistment  and  self-  ■ 
offering.  On  special  occasions  a  common  vow  recital  might  ; 
be  asked  and  registered  with  great  power.  Here  we  see  that  \ 
the  most  complete  worship  requires  the  sacrament  of  Com-  ' 
munion.  The  offering  of  self  in  the  sacrament  of  the  Euchar-  j 
ist  is  the  climax  of  Christian  worship.  i 

This  theory  of  the  order  of  worship  has  been  the  basis  of 
our  own  experiments  for  more  than  three  years,  with  very  j 
modest  materials.  Its  application  has  resulted  in  an  order  i 
of  service  which  is  a  dramatic  unity,  simple  and  dignified,  i 
interesting  and  smooth.  What  has  been  done  in  our  church  ; 
can  be  done  anywhere,  and  very  much  more  can  be  accom- 
plished  with  more  artists  to  help.  j 

I  have  nowhere  seen  another  statement  of  this  simple  ' 
principle,  except  that  of  Miss  Evelyn  Underbill,  in  her  vol-  ; 
ume  "The  Mystic  Way."  In  the  chapter  called  "The  Testi- 
mony of  the  Liturg}^"  the  author  analyzes  in  detail  the  func-  ' 
tions  of  each  liturgical  part  in  the  canon  of  the  Mass,  in  the  , 
light  of  precisely  this  theory.  "The  mass,"  she  writes,  "is  a  ; 
mystical  drama  enacting  the  necessary  adventures  of  the  ; 

•162- 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

soul."*  "All  the  way — from  the  first  turn  in  the  new  direc- 
tion— to  the  final  consciousness  of  world  renewal — the 
changing  liturgy-  tracks  out  the  adventures  of  the  soul,"f 
The  annual  program  includes  many  "partial  repetitions  of 
the  pattern  career — the  attainment  of  sanctity,  the  ascent 
to  the  eternal  order  and  heroic  descent  in  charity  to  man."i: 
'The  developed  sacramental  act  presents,  in  more  intimate 
and  detailed  drama  the  Mystic  Way  trodden  by  each  spirit 
in  its  movement  from  partial  to  complete  life."|| 

Following  out  this  theory,  Miss  Underhill  applies  it  in 
detail  to  the  different  exercises  of  the  Mass,  separating  for 
this  purpose  the  Mass  of  the  Catechumens  from  the  Mass  of 
the  Faithful,  suggesting  that  each  of  these  is  a  complete 
cycle  in  itself,  one  a  preparation  for  the  other.  Of  the  first 
cycle  she  says,  "On  its  psychological  sicie  it  recapitulates 
that  sequence  of  mental  states  which  prepares  the  movement 
of  consciousness  toward  new  levels;  the  opening  of  the  eyes 
of  the  soul,  the  leading,  as  it  were,  of  the  self  to  the  frontiers 
of  the  Spiritual  World." §  Her  chapter  cannot  be  exten- 
sively quoted  here,  nor  do  I  agree  with  her  analysis  at  vari- 
ous points.  But  the  theory,  I  believe,  is  the  true  one,  both 
historically  and  psychologically.  A  few  sentences  will  dis- 
play her  method.  Respecting  the  very  beginning  of  the 
order,  she  goes  back  to  an  earlier  mystic  writer:  "  'It  is  the 
business  of  the  first  psalms  and  hymns  of  the  liturgy,'  says 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  'to  harmonize  the  habits  of  our 
souls  to  the  things  which  are  presently  to  be  ministered, 
establishing  an  accordance  with  things  divine.'  "j| 

When  the  vision  has  been  seen,  there  follows  swiftly  the 
sense  of  imperfection  and  sin:  "The  joy  of  the  discovery  of 
Perfection  is  here  balanced  by  the  sadness  of  the  discovery 
of  self:  the  drama  of  the  mystical  life  process  moves  to  that 
first  complete  realization  of  disharmony,  of  the  profound 
need  for  readjustment,  which  introduces  the  soul  to  the  Pur- 

*  Underbill,  "The  Mystic  Way,"  p.  335. 
"^Ibid.,  p.  339. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  340. 


Ibid.,  p.  341 
§  Ibid.,  p.  344 
H  Ibid.,  p.  344 


163 


Art  (S  Religion 

gative  Way.  .  .  .  The  Confitior  is  the  ritual  equivalent  of 
this  backward  swing;  of  the  sudden  vision  of  self,  perceived 
in  the  light  of  reality."* 

As  the  experience  moves  forward,  so  also  its  expression  in 
the  liturgy.  The  Gloria  in  Excelsis  is  the  "fit  image  of  the 
joyous  vision  of  the  universe  which  is  characteristic  of  the 
illuminated  state,  the  abrupt  dilation  of  consciousness,  the 
abrupt  reaction  from  pain-negation  to  the  positive  emotions 
of  approbation  and  delight." f  In  the  Scripture  readings  she 
finds  the  expression  of  that  desire  to  publish  the  good  news 
and  consecrate  the  life  above  suggested  as  a  necessary  part 
of  the  normal  experience. 

I  have  not  myself  had  exactly  this  feeling,  and  question 
whether  it  is  associated  in  the  mind  of  the  ordinary  wor- 
shiper with  the  Scripture  lessons.  Details,  however,  are  un- 
important, as  compared  to  the  truth  of  the  principle  that  the 
mystic  experience,  and  also  its  expression  in  the  liturgy, 
should  include  the  outgoing  desires  for  the  good  of  the 
world,  as  well  as  the  enjoyment  and  adoration  of  the 
moment.  The  complete  exercise  is  "a  compact  image  of  the 
illuminated  life  in  its  wholeness;  its  attitude  of  rapt  atten- 
tion to,  and  glad  adoration  of,  the  Transcendent  Order,  its 
perpetual  effort  to  share  with  others  the  secret  which  it  has 
received."  :|; 

There  are  undreamed  possibilities  of  noble  worship  before 
us.  Our  opportunities  and  advantages  are  many.  At  the 
opera,  at  the  concert,  the  people  are  given  no  share  in  the 
production.  The  experience,  more  or  less  stifled  within  itself, 
tends  to  grow  less  and  less  in  its  most  valuable  elements, 
and  to  center  itself  on  the  enjoyment  of  the  technical  and 
formal  merits  of  the  work  of  art.  The  church  has  a  chance  to 
present  its  great  conceptions  in  forms  of  beauty  no  less  en- 
chanting than  any  others  and  to  enhance  the  imaginative 
grasp  of  those  conceptions  by  the  vivid  processes  of  their 
popular  expression  and  celebration.  I  believe  that  it  is  not 
only  possible  for  the  church  to  offer  higher  and  better  enjoy- 

*  Underbill,  "The  Mystic  Way,"  p.  346. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  346. 
tibid.,  p.  348. 

•164- 


The  Order  of  the  Liturgy 

ments  than  any  of  the  arts,  but  also  to  chiim  the  moral  supe- 
riority of  its  exercise  of  worship  as  having  a  definite  intel- 
lectual content  and  suggesting  a  definite  practical  issue. 

Anyone  who  has  attempted  to  improve  an  order  of  wor- 
ship is  well  aware  of  many  practical  problems  involved. 
People  do  not  wish  to  stand  up  and  sit  down  too  many  times 
in  a  service.  There  must  be  opportunities  for  late  comers  to 
be  seated  with  the  least  possible  intrusion  upon  the  attention 
of  all.  The  order  must  be  easily  followed.  Strangers  and 
visitors  do  not  enjoy  the  embarrassment  of  intricate  cere- 
monies which  can  be  followed  easily  only  by  those  familiar 
with  them. 

Whatever  forms  are  used,  their  purposes  and  functions 
should  not  be  too  critically  understood  by  the  people.  They 
should  get  the  effect  without  being  called  upon  to  notice  the 
management  that  produces  it.  It  is  easy  for  the  planners  of 
public  exercises  to  produce  an  artificial  effect.  This  is  the 
risk  of  all  analysis  and  of  all  painstaking.  But  the  lack  of 
analysis  and  of  painstaking  has  in  many  churches  brought 
about  usages  which  are  ugly  and  unendurable  to  larger  and 
larger  numbers  of  people. 

I  am  not  claiming  that  the  most  beautiful  order  of  wor- 
ship can  cause  everybody  to  worship.  The  experience  is  in- 
effable and  awful,  mysterious  and  blessed  always.  But  very 
much  can  be  done  to  help  people  to  have  it.  The  experience 
may  not  move  concurrently  with  its  expression  in  the  service. 
But  I  am  entirely  persuaded  that  no  other  suggestion  will  so 
help  us  in  arranging  better  exercises  of  public  worship  as 
this  principle  to  which  details  can  be  referred  and  by  which 
simplicity  and  unity  may  be  maintained — the  parallel  ex- 
pression in  the  order  of  worship  of  the  most  significant 
elements  in  the  experience  of  worship. 


165 


Chapter  XVII :  Introit  and  Antiphons 

THERE  is  needed  a  brief  further  word  about  the 
usage  of  an  Introit  as- suggested  in  the  last  chapter. 
The  logic  and  function  of  its  place  in  the  service  was 
perhaps  made  sufficiently  clear  there.  It  is  calculated  to  do 
what  a  prologue  or  first  act  of  a  play  does.  It  sets  forth  the 
theme  of  the  whole  service  with  sufficiently  rich  material, 
carried  by  beautiful  antiphonal  music,  to  capture  attention 
and  begin  the  process  of  the  total  presentation  of  the  hour. 

Such  an  exercise  should  be  confident  in  spirit  and  declara- 
tive in  manner — a  work  of  art  never  argues  but  simply  pre- 
sents. In  style  and  diction  it  should  be  preferably  archaic 
or  poetic,  though  not  metrical.  In  tone  of  utterance  it  should 
not  be  modulated  nor  weighty,  but  straightforward  and 
clear  and  even,  confidently  declarative. 

In  form,  a  tripartite  arrangement  seems  to  be  a  natural 
one,  each  of  the  three  readings  of  the  minister  being  fol- 
lowed by  the  antiphonal  response  of  the  choir.  A  reexamina- 
tion of  a  considerable  number  already  used  discovers  a 
marked  tendency  in  the  character  of  the  three  parts.  The 
first  reading  sets  forth  some  statement  of  faith  or  some  attri- 
bute of  Divinity.  The  second  relates  to  the  corresponding 
human  obligation,  some  statement  of  the  moral  implications 
of  the  divine  character  previously  testified.  The  third  read- 
ing then  expresses  the  hope  of  triumph  for  the  truth  pro- 
claimed or  reward  for  the  virtues  admonished. 

Materials  for  these  parts  should  be  taken  largely  from  the 
Bible.  Some  churches  will,  at  least  occasionally,  be  willing 
to  have  other  religious  writings  drawn  upon  for  such  declara- 
tive statements  as  they  regard  to  be  truthfully  and  beauti- 
fully set  forth.  One  of  the  best  collections  of  material  of  this 
character  has  been  made  by  Mr.  Stanton  Coit  and  published 
in  the  volumes  on  "Social  Worship." 

Good  music  for  responses  is  hard  to  find.  We  use  some- 

•  166- 


Introit  and  Antiphons 

times  that  which  is  included  in  the  "Selected  Readings" 
published  by  the  A.  S.  Barnes  Company.  Most  of  it  is  very 
unsatisfactory,  although  the  plan  is  good.  Mr.  Clarence 
Dickinson  has  prepared  similar  antiphonals  for  use  in  the 
Brick  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York,  which  are  being  pub- 
lished. Our  own  organist  is  composing  new  ones,  according 
as  we  are  able  to  develop  the  material  in  harmony  with  the 
services.  Two  of  these  are  presented  below  in  this  chapter. 
It  is  hoped  that  these  can  sometime  be  published  in  fonn 
suitable  for  choir  usage. 

If  any  church  desires  to  make  use  of  such  an  introductory 
number,  it  should  possess,  sooner  or  later,  a  sufficiently  large 
variety  of  music  to  cover  the  main  themes  of  the  Christian 
year.  Oftentimes  the  same  musical  response  will  serve  tor 
somewhat  different  selections  for  the  readings.  It  is  less 
difficult  to  find  readings  more  fully  pertinent  to  the  theme 
of  the  service.  If  the  words  which  are  sung  are  reasonably  in 
accord,  the  spoken  material  will  sufficiently  carry  the  burden 
of  more  precise  introduction. 

There  is  nothing  in  this  general  plan  to  make  it  impracti- 
cable, even  with  very  modest  resources.  Even  without  any 
music  at  all,  there  may  be  an  Introit  in  the  service,  though  it 
consist  of  nothing  more  than  two  or  three  verses  carefully 
selected  for  their  pertinence  as  a  preliminary  announcement 
of  the  theme  of  the  day.  It  is,  at  least,  far  better  to  have 
such  an  introduction,  fresh  for  every  formal  service,  than  to 
use  a  familiar  stereotyped  call  to  worship.  There  will  always 
be  some  people  who  will  try  to  be  in  their  pews  on  time 
simply  to  hear  what  those  introductory  verses  are,  knowing 
that  they  will  be  fresh  and  appropriate.  Sometimes  even  a 
single  well-selected  verse  declaring  some  divine  truth  will 
secure  an  interest  and  be  fixed  in  memory  better  than  a 
longer  reading  or  antiphonal  exercise.  Such  a  practice  makes 
all  the  worshipers  feel  that  the  service  has  been  well  pre- 
pared and  tends  greatly  to  increase  their  expectation  of 
getting  genuine  good  from  it. 

It  will  sometimes  be  found  valuable  to  use  an  antiphonal 
exercise  in  the  midst  of  the  service  rather  than  as  an  Introit. 
Particularly  is  this  suggestion  applicable  to  special  occa- 

•  167  • 


Art  ©  Religion 

sional  services  or  celebrations.  The  future  artist  in  worship 
will  find  many  opportunities  for  impressive  recitals  of  this 
character,  including  responses  by  two  choirs  and  responses 
between  two  portions  of  the  congregation,  as  well  as  between 
minister  and  people  or  rninister  and  singers. 

The  exercises  here  presented  were  used  in  the  regular 
morning  service  at  the  Wellington  Avenue  Congregational 
Church  in  Chicago.  The  music  was  written  by  the  regular 
choir  director,  Mr.  Leo  Sowerby.  The  first  was  prepared  for 
the  service  at  which  the  sermon  topic  was  "The  Son  of 
God,"  the  second  was  introductory  to  a  sermon  on  "The 
Communion  of  Work." 


INTROIT  ON  CREATIVE  SONSHIP 

Minister: 

Thus  saith  the  Lord: 

I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else;  beside  me  there  is 

no  God. 
I  will  gird  thee,  though  thou  hast  not  known  me : 
That  they  may  know  from  the  rising  of  the  sun,  and  from 

the  west,  that  there  is  none  beside  me : 
I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else. 
I  form  the  light,  and  create  darkness; 
I  make  peace  and  create  evil ; 
I  am  the  Lord,  that  doeth  all  these  things. 

Choir: 


Slowly ; — 


Ho-ly,  Ho-ly,      Ho 


iiE 


— ©> — ©>- 


■A 


e 


-(Z- 


ly,    Lord  God  of     Hosts.       A -men. 


J 


/ 


^ 


P 


^^ 


^ 


168. 


Introit  and  Antiphons 

Minister: 

As  many  as  are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  these  are  the  sons 

of  God. 
For  ye  received  not  the  spirit  of  bondage  again  unto  fear; 

but  ye  received  the  spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we 

cry,  Abba,  Father. 
For  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creation  waiteth  for 

the  revealing  of  the  sons  of  God. 
For  the  creation  was  subjected  to  vanity  ...  in  hope  that 

the  creation  itself  also  shall  be  delivered  from  the 

bondage  of  corruption  into  the  liberty  of  the  glory 

of  the  children  of  God. 


Choir. 


Moderately 


E=^z^=±::£ 


£ 


P 


-s*- 


:^=^ 


t 


-^ 


The  Heavens  and  the  earth  are  full,  Are    full     of   Thy  glo-ry, 

/i  -.^  i_.^-^  J     I    J      ^    rJ  J.-f-  -•-  . 

-\ — t— 


I 


iiBEO* 


-v—^^ 


^sz- 


p. 


^s*l 


-•— ^- 


-=]: 


Ho  -  san-na  in  the    Higrh 

P-  -^  -0 


PJ^ 


•  •    -^-   -•-   -■-    -•-   -&-    -m- 

est,       Ho-san-na   in    the  High-est. 


Minister: 

And  I  saw  the  heaven  opened :  and  behold,  a  white  horse 

and  he  that  sat  thereon,  called  Faithful  and  True : 
And  his  eyes  are  a  flame  of  fire  and  upon  his  head  are 

many  diadems: 
And  his  name  is  called  the  Word  of  God. 

•  169- 


Art  &  Religion 

And  the  armies  which  are  in  heaven  followed  him  upon 

white  horses. 
Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet 

appear  what  we  shall  be : 
But  we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like 

him :  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is. 


Choir: 


fe 


Fast 


/ 


i^ 


-^r 


t 


Bless  -  ed     is      He        Who  com-  eth   in     the  Name    of     the 


U 


ii!i*e^ 


-t9 — • ^—9- 


i= 


%S^-^ p- — =Fi 


Lord,   . 


of  .     . 


ts^i 


p 


:3^S^ 


the   Lord. 


Ho-san  -  na       in      the 


mt 


:p=t 


'^J^^.f— f-^^- 


the  Name      of     the    Lord. 


*«: 


^-0- 


High 


ri=^-^' 


E5^r 


t^- 


^ 


:^=±M: 


est, 


Ho  -  san  -  na      in       .  the    High  -  est. 


:F=t 


=F=t 


I— k— »— * — h-'-^ ;j-» — H— 


^ 


.(Z. 


fi^ 


'^ 


^ 


-v-^jg- 


n 


r- 


INTROIT  ON  THE   FELLOWSHIPS  OF  WORK 

Minister: 

Come  and  see  the  works  of  God. 
His  work  is  honorable  and  glorious. 

•  170- 


Introit  and  Antiphons 

He  hath  made  his  wonderful  works  to  be  remembered: 
the  Lord  is  gracious  and  full  of  compassion. 

The  works  of  his  hands  are  verity  and  judgment: 

O  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness,  and 
for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men ! 

And  let  them  sacrifice  the  sacrifices  of  thanksgiving,  and 
declare  his  works  with  rejoicing. 


Choir: 


fe 


Rather  fast 


fefet 


9 


-•— 


=t 


-JtL 


-=ti^ 


Bless  the  Lord,       all      his      works,        in      all    pla  -  ces    of 


s^ 


m 


t 


f 


-^ 


i 


^^ 


:*=P^ 


±i: 


9 


his     do  -  min  -  ion.       Bless    the     Lord,       O        my 


-(S-.       - 

soul. 


/-•-J :•- :^_ 

ZZZZf (2_ 


:E 


■f5>- 

\ 

5"— 


I 


-V' 


Minister: 

God  is  no  respecter  of  persons : 

But  in  every  nation,  he  that  feareth  him  and  worketh 

righteousness  is  accepted  with  him. 
For  it  is  God  which  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do 

of  his  good  pleasure. 
Faith,  if  it  hath  not  works  is  dead,  being  alone. 
Surely  my  judgment  is  with  the  Lord,  and  my  work  with 

my  God. 

.171. 


Art  &  Religion 


Choir. 


# 


Moderately 


-G^-r 


-\—l 


P 


:^: 


^3^ 


-•-7- 


Bless     the  Lord, 


9M 


-G>-^ 


m 


-«^-^- 


all 


^- 


ye    his    hosts :    ye     min  -    is  -  ters     of 


:^=!i: 


=t=^F 


-^  r 


his  that  do     his    pleas -ure.  Bless  the  Lord,   O      my        soul. 


-#— •- 


-•-  S 


P 


4-.J^r. 


:r=^^-p-^=^=t=^ 


-^■i 


-<s— 


F^^^ 


t3^^ 


f^r*- 


When  the  Son  of  man  shall  come  in  his  glory  and  all  the 

holy  angels  with  him,   .    .    . 
Before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  nations:  and  he  shall 

separate  them  one  from  another  .    .    ,  and  say  unto 

them  on  his  right  hand, 
Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world : 
For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat : 

I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink: 

I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in : 

Naked,  and  ye  clothed  me : 

I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me : 

I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me. 
Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these 

my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me. 


172 


Introit  and  Antiphons 


Choir: 


Fast 
jmf. 


And  his        ser  -  vants  shall  serve     .     .     him :   and    they   shall 
>   Jt^Jt^t-m       J>      -f- \ /^-      ^     .i^^- 


J2^ 


his      face.  Bless   the       Lord,      .     .     all 


9 


i=?= 


hosts.       Bless  the     Lord,     bless  the    Lord,       O        my         soul. 


-r — ^ 


-V H 


B 


-©i- 


I 


173 


Chapter  XVIII:  Music 

MUSIC  is  the  most  universal  and  possibly  the  high- 
est of  the  fine  arts.  It  is  the  most  formal  and  the 
least  representative  of  all.  It  is  the  only  one 
which  appeals  to  the  ear,  all  the  others  being  addressed  to 
the  eye.  Although  some  music  approximates  other  arts  in 
definiteness  of  ideas,  the  most  of  it  is  representative  of 
moods  and  feelings  rather  than  of  concepts.  It  is  pure 
beauty,  of  harmony,  of  m^elody,  of  rhythm,  like  a  tree,  a 
vase,  a  flower,  or  the  movements  of  the  dance. 

Just  as  all  peoples  have  loved  music,  so  to  the  religionist, 
music  is  the  most  commonl)^  acceptable  art.  Churches  which 
are  prejudiced  against  painting  and  sculpture  and  which 
have,  seemingly,  little  appreciation  of  the  importance  of 
beautiful  architecture,  insist  upon  having  good  music.  There 
is  no  need  for  argument  by  way  of  persuading  even  Protest- 
ants to  utilize  the  art  of  music.  There  is  much  need  of  many 
very  definite  improvements  in  the  ordinary  use  of  music 
among  us.  Forgoing  the  desire  to  discuss  the  general  aesthet- 
ics of  the  subject,  I  am  confining  these  remarks  to  a  few 
very  practical  matters. 

First  of  all,  the  music  of  a  church  service  should  contrib- 
ute to  its  unity.  Often  it  does  not  do  this.  The  words  of  the 
anthems,  usually,  and  frequently  the  words  of  the  hymns, 
have  little  or  no  connection  with  the  general  theme  of  the 
service.  That  this  is  difficult  to  avoid  is  no  excuse  for  it. 
Although  our  hymn  books  are  not  sufficiently  rich  in  express- 
ing many  modern  religious  sentiments,  the  best  hymnals 
will  yield  numbers  which  will  reasonably  accord  with  most 
of  the  subject  matter  desired.  It  is  unexceptionably  worth 
while  for  ministers  to  take  pains  in  the  choice  of  hymns. 

Far  more  difficult  is  the  question  of  the  anthem.  Not  only 
is  the  range  of  ideas  in  anthem  literature  more  limited,  but 
it  is  harder  to  prearrange  the  sermon  and  service  themes 

•174- 


Music 

sufficiently  early  to  enable  the  choir  preparation  to  be  per- 
tinent. Nevertheless,  especially  in  the  larger  churches,  the 
attempt  should  be  made  to  fit  the  anthem  as  accurately  as 
possible  into  the  definite  unity  of  the  day. 

As  already  suggested  in  a  previous  chapter,  some  general 
church  year  system  of  themes  may  be  made  the  basis  of  the 
usual  preparation.  Even  if  not  always  followed,  such  a  sys- 
tem tends  to  increase  the  number  of  services  in  which  a  suc- 
cessful unity  can  be  developed.  Our  usual  Protestant  usage 
accomplishes  this  for  the  more  notable  seasons,  such  as 
Thanksgiving,  Christmas,  and  Easter.  It  can  be  extended  by 
adding  seasonal  themes  in  Advent,  Lent,  Whitsuntide,  and 
other  seasons. 

Where  it  is  difficult,  on  particular  occasions,  to  find  suit- 
able words  for  the  musical  parts  of  the  service,  anthems  may 
be  omitted  entirely  in  favor  of  organ  music.  This  is  a  very 
impressive  usage  in  any  case.  There  is  an  abundant  musical 
literature  for  such  purposes.  An  organ  number  in  the  midst 
of  the  service  may  sometimes  be  far  superior  to  an  anthem. 
It  may  be  made  just  as  interesting,  and  has  some  distinct 
advantages.  Having  a  less  definite  mental  suggestion  than 
the  anthem,  it  calls  more  richly  upon  the  imagination  of  the 
worshiper.  If  the  theme  of  the  service  has  already  been 
clearly  presented,  that  theme  the  more  easily  becomes  the 
imaginative  content  of  the  musical  presentation.  Especially 
nowadays,  when  people  expect  so  much  to  be  done  for  them, 
it  is  valuable  to  have  them  drawn  into  this  kind  of  share 
in  the  good  of  the  service.  Also,  in  this  day  of  nervous  move- 
ment, it  is  valuable  to  have  in  the  service  such  moments  of 
quietness  as  are  effected  by  a  purely  musical  number. 

Not  every  organist  is  skilful  in  the  selection  of  his  num- 
bers with  respect  to  the  service  unity.  He  should  not  use 
martial  music  when  the  theme  of  the  service  is  quiet  and 
devotional,  nor  contrariwise.  At  every  possible  point  all  the 
music  of  every  service  should  be  made  conformable  to  the 
prearranged  theme  of  the  hour. 

The  next  most  important  manner  of  regarding  music  in 
public  worship  is  its  worth  as  the  general  matrix  of  the 
service.  It  should  be  used  not  only  for  its  own  sake,  at  espe- 

•175- 


Art  &  Religion 

cially  assigned  places,  but  all  the  way  through  to  bind  the 
parts  together.  It  should  fill  the  chinks  and  make  the  transi- 
tions. It  is  the  underlying  warp  upon  which  the  pictures  of 
the  woof  are  woven.  If  minister  and  organist  understand 
each  other  and  work  together,  many  rough  places  may  be 
smoothed  by  a  little  musical  transition.  Not  only  such  items 
as  prayer  responses,  but  also  short  bits  of  playing  while 
stragglers  are  being  seated  or  while  people  are  changing  their 
postures,  or  where  the  impression  of  one  portion  of  the 
service  needs  for  a  further  moment  to  be  continued  or 
slightly  altered  before  another  begins.  As  an  instance  of 
the  last  point,  in  our  service  the  organist  takes  up  the  emo- 
tional level  of  the  close  of  the  Scripture  lesson  and  plays 
a  little  climacteric  interlude  sweeping  up  into  the  Doxology. 
It  does  not  take  long  and  greatly  assists  the  people  to  the 
feeling  of  praise  they  are  about  to  express. 

There  cannot,  of  course,  be  good  music  in  the  church 
unless  there  are  people  properly  fitted  to  produce  it.  The 
conduct  of  the  church  choir  is  often  a  vexed  and  difficult 
question.  It  is  well  to  begin  with  a  high  regard  for  its  work. 
The  possibilities  of  the  influence  of  noble  music  are  so  great 
that  it  is  hard  to  overestimate  the  importance  of  a  successful 
choir.  If  any  chorister  should  chance  to  read  this  chapter,  let 
him  be  assured  of  the  dignity  and  worth  of  his  contribution 
to  the  service  of  God;  let  him  understand,  also,  that  it  is 
more  important  for  him  to  have  a  truly  religious  spirit  and 
reverent  bearing,  and  to  be  unexceptionably  faithful  in 
attendance,  than  that  he  should  be  possessed  of  extraordi- 
nary talent. 

A  so-called  chorus  choir,  even  a  small  one,  is  far  better 
than  a  quartet.  The  quartet  may  produce  superior  music; 
it  is  usually  inferior  in  devotional  feeling.  The  chorus  is  less 
professional  and  more  worshipful,  both  in  appearance  and 
style  of  singing.  Altogether  too  much  church  music,  espe- 
cially as  produced  by  the  quartet,  somehow  has  the  aspect  of 
concert  numbers.  Music  in  the  service  should  rather  give 
the  impression  of  an  indispensable  and  closely  woven  part 
of  the  service  as  a  whole.  No  music  in  a  service  of  worship 
should  ever  impress  one  as  a  program  number. 

•  176- 


Music 

Sometimes,  where  it  is  hard  to  maintain  a  purely  volun- 
teer choir,  and  too  expensive  to  pay  many  singers,  a  paid 
soloist  may  be  engaged  as  a  voice  teacher  for  the  chorus.  All 
the  members  then  receive  as  a  kind  of  payment  or  spur  to 
their  interest  valuable  instruction  which  at  the  same  time 
improves  the  choir.  A  children's  choir  is  often  possible  of 
development  as  an  adjunct  to  the  work  of  the  regular  chorus. 

In  any  case,  it  is  vital  to  the  service  of  worship  that  the 
work  of  the  choir  be  considered  not  merely  from  the  point  of 
view  of  artistic  singing,  but  also  from  the  point  of  view 
of  its  appearance,  and  with  regard  to  an  effect  of  simplicity 
and  reality  as  compared  with  professionalism.  The  chorus 
choir  is  far  superior  at  both  these  points.  It  makes  possible 
a  processional  movement  of  singers  and  at  the  same  time  a 
less  conspicuous  impression.  The  children's  choir,  also, 
though  their  musical  rendition  be  extremely  modest,  may  be 
made  beautiful  to  look  upon  and  so  a  great  addition  to  the 
sweetness  and  joy  of  the  service. 

In  line  with  the  importance  of  the  worshipful  character 
of  the  music,  there  should  be  a  greater  development  of 
responses  and  antiphonals.  The  ambitious  and  elaborate 
anthem  has  its  place  in  the  music  of  the  church,  but  it  is 
greatly  overestimated.  It  is  often  top-heavy  with  respect  to 
the  rest  of  the  service.  It  is  often  "lugged  in."  Frequently 
it  stands  apart,  valuable  in  itself,  but  not  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  total  psycholog}^  of  the  hour.  Brief  responses, 
on  the  other  hand,  may  serve  a  definite  psychological  func- 
tion when  properly  placed. 

Some  churches  have  developed  short  antiphonal  exercises 
between  people  and  minister  and  choir,  composed  of  read- 
ing and  musical  responses.  Such  exercises  are  especially 
valuable  for  occasional  services.  They  may  be  made  very 
impressive  at  the  opening  of  the  service,  as  has  been  sug- 
gested. Such  usages  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  character  of  the 
music.  It  is  obviously  worshipful  and  not  merely  artistic.  It 
is  far  removed  from  the  impression  of  concert  program 
character.  In  the  performance  of  such  exercises,  the  singers 
do  not  appear  to  be  professional  artists,  but  genuine  servers 
in  the  House  of  God.  There  is  not  a  large  musical  literature 

•  177- 


Art  &  Religion 

to  be  drawn  upon  for  such  antiphonal  singing.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  composers  will  develop  work  of  this  character. 
It  will  undoubtedly  be  more  largely  called  for  in  the  early 
future. 

The  use  of  music  for  special  occasions  of  the  church  year 
is  often  very  successfully  developed.  There  is  an  abundant 
store  of  good  music  for  such  uses.  Yet  here,  also,  there  is 
large  opportunity  for  further  development.  The  future 
church,  especially  the  cathedral-like  city  organization, 
ought  to  make  provision  for  an  organist  who  is  also  an  able 
composer.  The  leaders  of  the  worship  of  such  a  church  will 
wish  occasionally  to  arrange  services  to  celebrate  great 
events  or  set  forth  in  a  new  way  great  themes  of  the  Chris- 
tian career.  They  ought  to  have  a  musician  capable  of  pro- 
viding the  fresh  compositions  necessary  for  such  occasions. 

Sometimes  even  a  modest  and  brief  composition  that  is 
new  in  form  and  content  is  extremely  effective.  For  example, 
in  our  own  church,  on  last  Palm  Sunday,  the  organist  pre- 
pared music  for  the  words  of  the  Palm  Sunda)'  story.  The 
account  was  presented  at  the  vesper  service.  It  began  with 
the  bright  morning  appeal  of  the  Day  of  Palms,  brilliantly 
sung  by  a  solo  voice.  Then  followed  a  reading  by  the  minis- 
ter setting  forth  a  reconstructed  story  of  the  day,  recounting 
the  failure  of  the  leaders  and  the  people  of  Jerusalem  to 
accept  the  appeal,  this  reading  being  accompanied  by  organ 
playing.  After  a  transitional  paragraph,  the  keynote  of  the 
first  bright  passage  was  resumed  and  the  words  of  praise  by 
the  throng  sung,  to  express,  as  it  were,  the  final  judgment  of 
history  on  the  events.  This  was  not  an  elaborate  production, 
but  it  was  pertinent,  beautiful,  and  spiritually  suggestive. 
It  illustrated  quite  precisely  the  kind  of  thing  that  should  be 
attempted  much  more  frequently  as  there  is  developed 
amongst  us  a  growing  sense  of  the  possibilities  of  noble  and 
beautiful  music  in  the  worship  of  the  church. 

Some  churches,  especially  those  located  on  the  crowded 
thoroughfares,  realize  the  value  of  organ  playing  at  fixed 
hours  on  week  days.  If  people  know  that  they  may  step  into 
the  church  for  rest  and  meditation  at  noontime  or  in  the 

.178. 


Music 

late  afternoon,  and  at  the  same  time  find  good  music,  many 
will  be  drawn  to  make  avail  of  it. 

Two  very  simple  matters  need  attention,  perhaps  more 
than  these  difficult  aspects  of  the  subject.  Choirs  should  be 
trained  to  sing  their  words  clearly,  and  always  to  give  care- 
ful attention  to  the  hymns.  Because  things  seem  small,  they 
are  the  more  neglected.  Many  organists  play  difficult  works 
better  than  they  play  hymns.  And  the  value  of  much  music 
is  lost  because  the  words  are  unintelligible.  As  in  other  arts, 
it  is  the  little  things  that  count.  We  are  often  too  ambitious 
musically.  It  is  far  better  to  have  simple,  plain  music,  sin- 
cerely and  successfully  rendered  all  the  way  through,  than 
to  have  occasional  brilliant  productions  in  the  midst  of 
slovenly  and  irreverent  work  in  general. 


179 


Chapter  XIX :  Architectural  Style 

EVERYONE  who  has  to  do  with  the  planning  of  a 
church  building  should  have  some  acquaintance  with 
the  principal  historic  styles  in  architecture,  together 
with  some  general  impression  of  the  spiritual  meaning  of 
each.  Two  very  special  facts  about  the  artistic  situation  of 
the  present  day  make  these  particularly  important  at  this 
time.  The  first  is  that  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  period  of 
style  revivals  more  marked  and  more  heterogeneous  than  at 
any  previous  time.  The  second  is  that  there  is  a  battle  of 
wits  on  amongst  the  architects  themselves  concerning  this 
very  matter  of  style  revival. 

Great  architecture  requires  originality  or  genius,  as  does 
any  other  great  production.  It  also  requires  scholarship.  It  is 
just  as  unfortunate  for  architects  to  be  planning  buildings 
that  are  not  scholarly  as  it  is  for  men  to  lecture  upon  phi- 
losophy without  knowing  Plato,  Plotinus,  Descartes  and  the 
other  great  contributors  to  the  stream  of  philosophic  learn- 
ing. It  is  just  as  valuable  for  the  architect  to  know  how  the 
Greeks  built  and  why,  and  how  the  monks  built  and  why, 
as  for  the  preacher  to  be  familiar  with  Isaiah  and  Paul  and 
Luther.  There  is  much  scholarly  building  going  on  these 
days,  and  also  much  extremely  ignorant  building.  Many 
unfortunate  buildings  are  constructed  because  committees, 
as  well  as  artists,  are  ignorant.  It  would  be  worth  while  for 
the  members  of  every  building  committee  to  make  a  brief 
historic  excursion  before  selecting  the  style  of  their  struc- 
ture. These  paragraphs  are  intended  as  an  extremely  simple 
introduction  to  such  an  excursion. 

GREEK 

They  would  wish  to  go  first  to  Greece.  There  they  would 
find  remains  of  the  great  prototypes  of  thousands  of  build- 
ings in  the  western  world.  On  the  Acropolis  in  Athens  alone 

.180. 


Architectural  Style 

they  could  see  enough  to  give  them  some  sense  of  the  glorious 
life  that  produced  the  fragments  which  still  remain  there, 
and  some  vague  comprehension  of  the  great  qualities  in  these 
constructions  which  have  again  and  again  drawn  back  to 
them  the  artistic  imagination  of  the  race. 

There  is  a  curious  paradox  just  here.  Some  likeness  to 
something  in  the  Parthenon  may  be  discovered  in  many 
structures  in  many  countries  over  centuries  of  time,  yet  the 
Parthenon  is  a  finished  product,  complete  and  perfect,  with 
no  possibilities  of  further  development  in  its  own  mode.  A 
rectangular  building,  of  simple  post  and  lintel  system  and  of 
absolute  symmetry,  quickly  comes  to  the  limit  of  develop- 
ment in  its  own  line.  No  structure  of  this  kind  in  the  world 
is  so  satisfying  as  this  Parthenon,  with  its  seventeen  columns 
upon  each  side  and  eight  at  each  end ;  every  question  of  scale 
and  proportion  nobly  disposed;  the  opposing  elements  of 
weight  and  upbearing  force  exactly  balanced;  every  line  of 
force  and  every  stress  of  weight  beautifully  expressed  in  the 
structure;  lavish  of  decorative  detail,  yet  ample  of  broad 
light  and  shade;  amazingly  fine  in  niceties  of  construction, 
especially  as  involved  by  the  curvatures  of  stylobate  and 
columns:  a  complete,  elegant,  commanding  house  of  wor- 
ship. 

This  building  is  the  symbol  of  the  very  essence  of  Greek 
life  and  genius.  We  cannot  understand  it  without  under- 
standing that  life,  and  yet,  from  it  alone,  we  might  almost 
reconstruct  that  life.  Many  things  are  to  be  read  from  the 
structure  itself.  Without  yielding  to  the  temptation  to 
analyze  them,  perhaps  the  most  important  thing  to  say  is 
that  the  building  typifies  in  its  very  nature  the  intellectual 
mastery  and  the  spiritual  poise  achieved,  though  it  were  for 
but  a  brief  moment  in  the  history  of  human  life,  by  the  great 
race  whose  genius  flowered  so  wonderfully  in  the  fifth  cen- 
tury B.C.  It  is  no  derogation  to  them  to  say  that  they 
remained  untroubled  by  many  of  the  problems  which  inter- 
est us.  We  could  not  express  our  lives  in  a  building  anything 
like  the  Parthenon.  We  have  not  reached  any  such  mastery 
or  unity  of  life.  We  are  troubled  by  the  enslavements  of 
the  world  as  the  builders  on  the  Acropolis  were  not. 

.181. 


Art  ^  Religion 

All  the  writers  agree  in  a  general  way  in  the  interpretation 
and  meaning  of  the  Greek  style.  Coventry  Patmore  calls  it 
a  rational  style,  "weight  of  material  force  mastered  by  the 
mind."  Irving  K.  Pond  calls  it  an  intellectual  style,  "final 
poise  and  repose,"  by  its  horizontal  lines  intimating  restraint 
and  restfulness.  Henry  Osborn  Taylor  describes  it  as  ex- 
pressing these  elements — limit,  proportion,  order,  finitude, 
perfection,  simplicity,  unity,  intellectualism,  poise.  Lyle 
March  Phillipps  emphasizes  its  tranquillity  and  lucidity. 
He  says  that  one  "puzzled  by  the  obscure  in  life,  baffled  by 
the  nothings  that  crowd  his  days  will  find  a  restorative  in 
Doric  architecture,  as  though  the  great  temple  should  speak 
— 'Resist  the  importunities  of  the  passing  hours ;  he  who  has 
diverted  man's  purpose  by  the  fugitive  impulses  will  accom- 
plish nothing;  proportion  your  ends  to  your  means  and 
instead  of  frittering  away  energy  in  a  thousand  caprices, 
direct  it  to  the  proportions  of  some  worthy  design.'  "* 

I  do  not  myself  feel  satisfied  with  these  phrases.  Nor  is  it 
fair  to  quote  them  as  the  complete  word  of  these  critics. 
If  the  Greek  temper  was  poised,  it  was  not  a  quiet  poise :  if 
it  was  intellectual,  it  was  not  unemotional  or  inactive.  The 
calm  of  the  Parthenon  is  not  the  oriental  calm,  but  rather 
the  self-possession  which  includes  both  enthusiasm  and 
energy.  Its  godlike  stateliness  is  not  that  of  indifference  and 
aloofness,  but  rather  of  comprehensiveness.  Moreover,  the 
Greeks  built  other  buildings  more  common  and  human;  on 
this  same  Acropolis,  the  Propylaea,  the  temple  of  Nike 
Apteros,  and  the  Erectheum.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  think- 
ing of  Greek  architecture  in  its  practical  and  definitive, 
luxurious,  Romanized  modifications  that  we  do  not  give 
sufficient  credit  for  the  mysticism  that  is  in  it.  If  for  a  brief 
time  the  Greeks  seem  to  have  reached  an  intellectual  repose, 
for  a  brief  time  also,  in  the  age  after  that  of  Pericles,  they 
appear  to  have  been  stirred  by  fresh  uncertainties,  until  the 
Hellenic  life  of  the  spirit  was  more  or  less  quenched  by  the 
Macedonian  ambitions  and  the  Roman  administration.  The 
Greek  mysteries,  the  Greek  nature  poetry,  and  the  Greek 
sculpture  in  the  post-Phidian  age  all  represent  a  more  Ro- 

*  Phillipps,  "Art  and  Environment,"  p.  120. 

.182. 


Architectural  Style 

mantic  and  searching  spirit  than  is  displayed  in  the  clear-cut 
and  definitive  Roman  world.  Yet  chiefly  the  intimations  of 
the  purest  Greek  work  are  intellectual. 

ROMAN 

Roman  architecture  seems  at  first  sight  to  be  merely 
Greek,  more  elaborated  and  larger  in  scale.  In  reality,  how- 
ever, not  only  did  the  Romans  apply  Greek  methods  of 
structure  and  Greek  motives  of  decoration  in  a  greater 
variety  of  ways,  but  they  created  a  new  architecture  by  the 
use  of  the  arch.  The  round  arch  enabled  the  Romans  to 
vault  wide  spaces  in  their  great  baths  and  basilicas  and 
to  carry  heavy  loads  as  in  aqueducts  and  amphitheaters.  It 
also  enabled  them  to  beautify  facades  and  develop  arcades 
of  great  charm  in  both  public  and  private  structures. 

The  Christian  churches  began  to  build  in  the  national  and 
prevailing  style.  Although  very  different  in  some  aspects  to 
the  civil  buildings  of  the  same  name,  the  early  Christian 
church  was  called  a  basilica,  an  oblong  building  with  an 
interior  colonnade  on  each  side;  with  a  high  roof  over  the 
middle  portion  so  that  light  and  air  might  come  from  win- 
dows in  the  clerestory  walls  above  the  rows  of  columns;  and 
with  a  half  circle  wall  at  the  end  of  the  nave  inclosing  the 
apse  or  sanctuary.  Some  of  the  very  ancient  basilicas  still 
remain  in  very  nearly  the  original  form,  and  with  most  of 
the  original  materials.  In  Rome,  St.  Paul's  Without  the  Walls 
is  perhaps  the  most  distinguished  and  representative  of  all. 
It  was  originally  built  in  386,  once  restored  by  Valentinian 
and  again  in  modern  times.  Santa  Maria  Maggiore  was 
built  in  432,  and  although  it  has  a  Renaissance  ceiling,  it 
retains  its  original  appearance.  Buildings  in  this  Roman  style 
were  constructed  for  Christian  churches  until  the  Gothic 
Age,  San  Clemente  in  Rome  having  been  built  in  1108. 
Two  great  buildings  at  Ravenna,  San  Appollinare  in  Classe 
and  San  Appollinare  Nuovo,  constructed  under  Byzantine 
influence  and  containing  notable  Eastern  mosaics,  are  none 
the  less  basil ican  in  form.  Many  basilicas  were  built  in  Syria, 
some  of  them  remaining  in  ruins,  others  as  the  one  in  Beth- 
lehem still  in  use.  These  buildings  are  not  only  stately  in 

.183- 


Art  &  Religion 

their  proportions  but  they  form  an  excellent  audience  room 
for  hearing  the  preacher,  and  an  excellent  composition,  by 
their  length,  for  drawing  attention  to  the  altar  or  the  com- 
munion table  and  to  the  symbolic  decorations  in  the  apse. 

All  Roman  architecture  seems  to  be  touched  with  the 
spirit  of  practical  competence  and  administrative  ability. 
Probably  the  modern  American  business  man  would  find 
himself  more  at  home  and  at  ease  in  the  society  of  Romans 
than  he  would  in  the  company  of  Greeks  or  of  mediaevals. 
Possibly  the  American  woman  would  discover  a  genuine 
kinship  with  the  Roman  matron  in  personal  and  domestic 
life,  in  virtues  and  in  ideals.  Yet  the  Roman  had  power  and 
wealth  and  intelligence  by  which  he  could  command  a  cul- 
ture and  a  sensitiveness  which  he  did  not  of  himself  quite 
possess.  All  this  is  accurately  represented  in  his  buildings, 
the  structures  of  an  eminently  practical  race. 

BYZANTINE 

After  the  division  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  Greek  city 
of  Byzantium,  later  known  as  the  city  of  Constantine,  be- 
came the  center  of  governmental  vitality  and  so  also  a 
dominating  influence  in  building.  Byzantine  architecture  is 
an  admixture  of  oriental  and  Hellenic  ideals.  Its  greatest 
achievements  were  accomplished  by  the  builders  of  Jus- 
tinian, in  a  structure  which  some  have  regarded  as  "the 
noblest  church  Christians  have  ever  built,"  Haggia  Sophia 
in  Constantinople,  begun  in  532  A.  D.  The  building  rests 
upon  four  great  piers  or  towers  forming  a  square  of  about 
a  hundred  feet  on  each  side.  From  pier  to  pier  are  flung  great 
arches.  Upon  the  arches,  spanning  the  wide  nave  and  sup- 
ported by  huge  curved  triangular  walls  or  pendentives,  is 
the  great  dome,  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  high.  The  side 
arches,  above  a  two-storied  colonnade  of  great  beauty,  are 
walled.  The  other  opposite  arches  are  open  to  receive  the 
vaulting  of  two  semi-domes  at  either  end  of  the  structure. 
The  whole  amazing  space  is  clear  to  the  eye  as  one  steps 
through  the  inner  portals  of  the  narthex.  The  interior  is 
splendid  in  the  display  of  rich  parti-colored  marbles,  and 
originally   possessed   extensive   mosaics.    Other   Byzantine 

.184. 


Architectural  Style 

buildings  which  the  traveler  may  have  opportunity  of  seeing 
are  San  Vitale,  Ravenna;  the  Church  of  the  Apostles,  Salon- 
ica;  St.  Mark's,  Venice;  the  Church  of  the  Chora,  and  St. 
Irene,  Constantinople.  St.  Front  in  Perigueux,  France,  has 
a  Byzantine  dome  and  the  church  which  Charlemagne  built 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle  is  an  octagon,  like  the  works  in  Ravenna 
or  their  prototypes  in  Syria.  The  brilliant  color  of  Byzan- 
tine decoration  is  on  the  walls  and  not  in  the  windows  as  in 
Gothic  buildings.  The  best-preserved  of  these  structures  are 
characterized  by  an  oriental  and  almost  barbaric  splendor 
that  suggests  an  exuberance  of  vitality  in  the  life  which 
produced  them.  Their  structural  triumph  still  makes  us 
realize  the  intellectual  genius  of  the  Greek  builders  who 
designed  them.  "It  is  the  clearness  of  the  art  of  Greece 
itself.""^  Their  wide  spaces  and  comprehending  domes  dispel 
any  inclination  to  narrowness  or  provincialism  in  the  be- 
holder. 

ROMANESOUE 

After  the  barbarian  invasions  had  destroyed  the  imperial 
power  in  the  West  and  broken  down  the  civil  unity,  the 
power  of  the  church  remained,  and  great  churches  were  still 
built.  But  the  Dark  Age,  roughly  500  to  1000,  was  in  gen- 
eral a  nondescript  period.  The  builders  of  churches  no  longer 
had  such  fine  artists  or  competent  workmen  to  depend  upon, 
nor  could  they  find  so  many  old  pillars  and  capitals  from 
earlier  structures  to  use  in  their  new  ones.  They  began,  there- 
fore, to  use  heavy  square  piers  instead  of  pillars,  and  archi- 
volts  instead  of  architraves  between  the  piers.  Some  of  the 
basilicas  had  used  the  archivolt  but  could  not  develop  it 
because  of  the  inadequate  support  of  pillars.  The  cathedral 
at  Torcello  is  a  ruder  church  than  the  older  basilicas,  but  its 
arches  are  wider.  San  Pietro  at  Toscanella,  740,  still  pre- 
dominantly Roman  and  basil ican  in  plan,  has  round  arches, 
the  greater  spread  of  which  is  the  presage  of  change.  When, 
however,  arches  were  used  over  the  nave  and  then  a  cross 
vault  added,  as  at  St.  Ambrose  in  Milan,  tenth  century,  we 
have  a  building  that  stands  not  at  the  end  of  an  old  process 
but  at  the  beginning  of  a  new. 

*  Lowrie,  "Monuments  of  the  Early  Church,"  p.  158. 

.185. 


Art  &  Religion 

In  Lombardy  and  in  Tuscany  are  to  be  seen  many 
churches  which  may  be  called  Romanesque  because  founded 
upon  the  basilican  idea,  yet  modified  profoundly  by  the 
increasing  use  of  the  arch.  Many  of  these  are  augmented  by 
campaniles,  lofty,  free-standing  square  bell  towers,  some  of 
them  of  great  beauty.  In  this  modified  Roman  style  were 
constructed  also,  north  of  the  Alps,  many  monastic  churches. 
In  Germany  are  many  notable  buildings  in  the  later  Roman- 
esque period,  such  as  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles, 
Cologne,  the  cathedrals  of  Speyer,  Mainz,  Trier,  and  others. 
In  Southern  France,  particularly  in  Auvergne  and  Poitou, 
are  many  notable  Romanesque  churches.  Many  people  are 
familiar  with  the  beautiful  doorway  of  St.  Trophime  at 
Aries.  Concerning  the  style  typical  of  this  period  Professor 
Maurice  de  Wulf  spoke  recently  at  the  Lowell  Institute. 
"It  was  a  form,  or  a  collection  of  forms,  which  were  quite 
new,  in  which  the  rational  and  logical  character  of  the 
church  and  its  functions  shines  forth  with  great  clearness. 
For  the  first  time  were  seen  two  towers  serving  as  the  frame 
for  the  fagade,  large  doorways,  choirs  with  their  surround- 
ing ambulatories  and  radiating  chapels,  high  walls  orna- 
mented within,  a  cruciform  ground  plan,  and  above  all,  a 
barrel  vault  in  stone,  instead  of  wooden  vaults  for  ceil- 
ings."* 

In  the  hands  of  the  Normans  the  same  mode  of  structure 
was  rapidly  developed  in  the  energetic  days  of  early  medi- 
aevalism  with  brilliant  results.  The  length  of  structure  was 
increased  and  the  height.  Such  buildings  as  the  church  at 
Jumieges  and  the  Abbaye  aux  Hommes  at  Caen,  Norman 
buildings  with  high  vaults  and  clerestories,  might  be  called 
early  Gothic  by  some,  so  far  has  the  process  developed  from 
the  earliest  movement  of  change.  In  England,  Iffley  Church, 
for  a  small  building,  and  Durham  Cathedral,  for  a  great 
structure,  are  well-known  Norman  churches. 

For  the  most  part,  in  Romanesque  and  Nonnan  construc- 
tion, the  arch  is  still  a  weight-carrying  rather  than  a  bal- 
anced member.  In  general,  also,  the  wall  of  the  building, 
rather  than  its  pillars  and  arches,  is  emphasized.  Sobriety 

*  Quoted  from  the  American  Architect,  April  7,  1920. 

.186. 


Architectural  Style 

and  simplicity  and  strength  are  intimated  by  the  plain  and 
solid  masses  and  wall  stability  of  these  buildings.  They  have 
left  behind  the  finish  and  authority  and  surface  polish  of  the 
Roman  world;  they  have  not  yet  achieved  the  daring  and 
logic  and  brilliance  of  the  Gothic  Age.  There  is  a  sense  of 
masculine  dependability  about  them  that  is  protective  and 
noble.  They  are  not  the  structures  of  an  effeminate  or  ele- 
gant age.  Whether  ponderous,  as  in  some  cases,  or  high  and 
light,  as  at  the  close  of  their  period,  they  are  all  suggestive 
of  a  well-composed  power  to  endure,  a  sturdy  virtue  and 
good  will,  not  reflective  or  clear  of  mind,  but  stout  of  heart 
and  strong, 

GOTHIC 

Probably  the  average  uninstructed  notion  of  a  Gothic 
church  is  of  a  building  having  windows  with  pointed  arches. 
Nothing  could  be  more  inadequate  or,  for  that  matter,  far- 
ther from  the  truth.  To  say  just  what  does  constitute  a 
Gothic  structure,  however,  is  not  so  easy.  Certainly  the  late 
Norman  buildings  with  round-arched  windows  and  vaults 
are  more  nearly  Gothic  than  many  modern  so-called  Gothic 
churches,  which  are  nothing  but  hall  auditoriums,  though 
the  windows  be  narrow  and  pointed.  The  astonishing  abbeys 
and  cathedrals  of  the  high  Gothic  age  came  both  swiftly  and 
directly  from  the  Norman  buildings  of  Northern  France 
and  England  after  the  Conquest.  The  transition  was  effected, 
most  of  all,  by  the  construction  of  rib  vaulting.  This  at  once 
lessened  the  amount  of  masonry  required  to  vault  the  aisles, 
and  also  the  quantity  required  for  the  walls,  by  concentrat- 
ing the  load  upon  the  piers.  The  solid  stonework  was  still 
further  reduced  in  the  buttresses,  as  it  was  found  that  an 
exterior  half  arch  or  flying  buttress  would  carry  the  outward 
thrust  as  safely  as  a  right-angled  wall.  These  devices, 
together  with  the  pointed  arch  and  sexpartite  vaulting,  also 
enabled  the  builder  to  carry  the  structure  to  greater  heights. 
The  result  at  last  was  a  building  in  which  the  walls  all  but 
disappeared  in  favor  of  pillars  or  clustered  piers  and 
windows. 

At  last,  also,  the  buildings  left  far  behind  the  broad  and 

•i87- 


Art  &  Religion 

horizontal  forms  of  the  classic  world :  they  became  long  and 
high,  the  vertical  lines  dominant.  Almost  every  important 
city  in  Europe  can  show  a  mediaeval  Gothic  building,  and 
almost  everyone  with  any  acquaintance  in  architecture  at  all, 
knows  the  names  of  some  of  the  most  celebrated  of  early  or 
late  Gothic  cathedrals. 
/  As  in  all  architecture,  the  building  itself  tells  its  own 
story  of  its  own  age.  The  Gothic  structure  is  instinct  with 
energy  and  aspiration  and  unrestrained  emotion;  it  is  active 
and  unsleeping  and  unlimited.  As  the  weight  of  the  Greek 
entablature  is  carried  by  the  columns  gracefully  and  easily, 
in  a  Gothic  building  it  is  "totally  vanquished,  borne  above 
as  by  a  superior  spiritual  power."*  The  arch  is  not  so  much 
a  carrier  of  dead  weight  as  an  active  member  of  a  logical 
fabric  nicely  balanced  by  an  equilibrium  of  forces.  How 
these  incomparable  works  of  art  were  raised  by  the  com- 
munalism,  the  rising  nationalism,  and  the  piety  of  the  great 
period  which  produced  them  is  a  great  historic  study.  The 
story  of  the  Cistercian  monks  alone  would  throw  needed 
light  upon  many  matters  artistic,  social,  and  religious  dur- 
ing that  energetic  age.  Students  of  the  history  of  religion 
or  of  art  may  be  well  assured  of  the  benefits  to  be  derived 
by  delving  deep  into  the  surging  tides  of  life  and  feeling, 
strong  enough  to  have  set  so  high  a  mark  in  the  artistic 
annals  of  the  race. 

Modern  would-be  builders  might  find  it  profitable  to 
engage  in  another  kind  of  imaginative  effort.  I  could  almost 
recommend  that  a  church  building  committee  secure  a  great 
quantity  of  wooden  blocks  and  go  down  upon  the  floor  and 
try  to  build  a  church  in  order  to  get  ever  so  faintly  some- 
thing of  the  feel  and  thrill  of  composing  a  true  structure, 
and  some  far-off  sense  of  the  builder's  fierce  joy  in  the 
mastery  of  his  problem.  Anything  we  can  do  to  give  us  a 
dramatic  entrance  into  the  spirit  of  the  builders  would  be 
beneficial  to  the  art  of  building  among  us.  A  very  short 
experience  with  our  blocks  upon  the  floor  would  soon  show 
us  that  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  build  a  basilica  with 
architraves.  And  it  would  soon  convince  us,  also,  how  far  we 

*  Patmore,  "Principle  in  Art,"  p.  20i. 

.188. 


Architectural  Style 

should  have  to  go  before  we  could  produce  anything  like  a 
Gothic  structure. 

The  intimations  of  Gothic  building,  then,  are  not  chiefly 
intellectual,  though  its  structural  character  is  logical  above 
all  others;  nor  chiefly  practical,  though  its  structural  princi- 
ple is  active  and  never  passive;  but  emotional  and  mystical. 
The  long  and  narrow  spaces  do  not  spread  out  to  compre- 
hend a  many-sided  experience,  but  point  the  attention,  with 
a  singleness  of  concentration,  upon  the  highest  experience: 
the  high  vaulted  aisles  do  not  rest  assuredly  upon  the  finite 
and  the  known,  but  lead  the  imagination  to  find  some  com- 
munion with  the  infinite  unknown. 

THE  RENAISSANCE 

In  the  fifteenth  century  another  great  change  began  to 
pass  upon  all  the  western  world,  that  combined  revival  of 
classic  learning  and  of  timeless  humanism  which  we  call  the 
Renaissance.  Beginning  in  Italy,  it  spread  to  the  north  and, 
architecturally  speaking,  came  to  America  at  the  time  when 
the  most  notable  churches  of  the  colonial  days  were  built. 

Without  presuming  even  to  suggest  the  complex  feelings 
and  movements  of  the  age,  it  is  for  our  purposes  sufficient  to 
recall  two  or  three  of  its  most  significant  notes.  It  was  a 
revival  of  interest  in  the  classic  grandeur  and  the  classic 
learning  both  of  Rome  and  of  Greece.  Perhaps  more  pro- 
foundly, it  was  a  fresh  interest  in  nature  and  in  man,  a 
reassertion  of  individualism  and  humanism  as  over  against 
the  authority  and  austerity  of  the  mediaeval  church.  Mr. 
Symonds  calls  it  the  emancipation  of  reason;  Mr.  Phillipps, 
the  natural  succession  of  an  age  of  thought  after  an  age  of 
action,  an  intellectual  civilization  with  naturalism  and 
realism  in  the  arts.  Professor  Frothingham  says  that  archi- 
tecturally the  meaning  of  the  Renaissance  is  "the  revival  of 
the  classic  orders,  and  of  the  Roman  decorative  system, 
combined  with  Roman  and  Byzantine  forms  of  vaulting, 
under  the  influence  of  an  artistic  sense  less  constructive  than 
it  was  decorative  and  with  a  degree  of  free  interpretation 
that  often  degenerated  into  license."*   Professor  Hamlin 

*  Sturgis  and  Frothingham,  "A  History  of  Architecture,"  vol.  4,  p.  106. 

.189. 


Art  &  Religion 

says  that  "the  Italians  of  those  days,  dissatisfied  with  the 
foreign  and  Gothic  manner  which  they  had  for  more  than  a 
century  been  seeking  to  assimilate,  longed  for  the  stateliness 
and  dignity,  the  largeness  of  scale,  the  breadth  and  repose 
of  effect  which  they  now  recognized  and  admired  in  even  the 
ruins  of  the  Roman  monuments."*  Mr.  Thomas  Hastings 
writes  that  "the  forms  of  architecture  which  had  prevailed 
for  a  thousand  years  were  inadequate  to  the  needs  of  the  new 
civilization,  to  its  demands  for  greater  refinement  of 
thought,  for  larger  truth  to  nature,  for  less  mystery  in  form 
of  expression,  and  for  greater  convenience  in  practical 
living."f 

The  first  great  architect  of  the  Renaissance  was  Brunel- 
leschi,  who  completed  the  great  dome  of  the  cathedral  in 
Florence  in  1436,  who  built  San  Lorenzo,  and  Santo  Spirito, 
the  Pitti  Palace,  the  Hospital  of  the  Innocents,  and  other 
works.  His  low,  round  arcades  upon  single  columns  were 
delightful  and  much  copied.  The  name  of  Bramante  stands 
for  the  higher  Renaissance,  with  its  revival  of  pier  and 
pilaster  construction  characteristic  of  ancient  Roman  build- 
ings. Many  palaces  and  churches  in  Italy  were  built  in  this 
splendid  age,  about  1490  to  1550,  including  St.  Peter's 
Cathedral.  After  this  came  baroque  and  decline,  although 
contemporaneous  with  the  beautiful  and  influential  work  of 
Palladio. 

North  of  the  Alps  the  classic  revival  became  one  of  the 
influences  in  the  rapid  development  of  the  Reformation, 
particularly  through  the  learning  of  such  Humanists  as 
Erasmus  and  Zwingli.  The  architectural  effects  were  not  so 
prevalent.  Castles  in  German)^,  chateaux  in  France,  and 
manor  houses  of  Jacobean  England  are  all  variant  forms  of 
Renaissance  influence.  The  churches  of  St.  Sulpice  and  the 
Hotel  des  Invalides  in  Paris  are  differing  forms  of  French 
Renaissance,  and  the  palaces  at  Versailles,  a  later  form.  The 
movement  in  England  began  with  Inigo  Jones,  its  greatest 
works  being  those  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  who  completed 
St.    Paul's    Cathedral    in    1710.    Wren's    London    parish 

*  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin  in  the  Architectural  Record,  July,  1919,  p.  62. 
t  Hastings,  "Modern  Architecture,"  p.  6. 

•  190- 


Architectural  Style 

churches,  with  their  slender  spires,  especially  St.  Bride's, 
Fleet  Street,  and  St.  Mary  le  Bow  are  the  direct  prototypes 
of  our  early  American  houses  of  worship,  such  as  Park  Street, 
Boston,  and  the  North  Church  in  New  Haven. 

The  intimations  of  the  Renaissance  mode  of  building  are, 
like  the  movement  itself,  complex  and  therefore  varied.  At 
their  worst,  they  suggest  secularity,  triviality,  vulgarity, 
superfine  elegance — though  for  that  matter  the  decline  of 
any  artistic  movement  reveals  these  same  things.  At  their 
best,  they  seem  to  convey  something  of  the  dignity  of  Roman 
Stoicism,  and  as  carried  out  in  a  few  of  the  finest  wooden 
Colonial  meetinghouses,  a  lucidity  that  is  almost  Greek, 
together  with  a  Gothic  aspiration  in  the  spires.  At  the  aver- 
age they  are  secular  and  administrative. 

STYLE    REVIVALS 

In  planning  a  new  church,  shall  we  use  one  of  the  historic 
styles,  and  if  so  which  one,  or  try  to  find  something  new? 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  most  important  to  be  aware  of  what 
we  are  actually  doing  in  the  matter  in  America  just  now.  We 
are  passing  through  a  period  characterized  by  a  fresh  interest 
in  all  these  historic  styles  and  a  revival  of  them  all.  Every- 
one is  perfectly  familiar  with  the  facts  of  this  revival  in 
domestic  architecture  and  in  house  furniture.  In  the  late 
nineteenth  century  we  were  producing  about  as  bad  an  out- 
put in  furniture  as  possible.  It  is  only  within  the  last  fifteen 
or  twenty  years  that  Grand  Rapids  and  other  furniture  head- 
quarters have  been  turning  out  "period  styles."  Precisely  the 
same  thing  has  occurred  in  church  architecture.  On  the  one 
hand,  there  is  a  fresh  usage  of  the  Gothic  tradition,  gen- 
uinely informed  with  a  real  Gothic  spirit.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  have  been  many  buildings  whose  mode  traces 
back  to  the  classic  tradition  at  some  point  or  other,  Roman 
Basilican,  Romanesque,  Renaissance,  or  Colonial. 

Few  people  are  aware  of  the  magnitude  and  excellence  of 
the  new  Gothic  churches  recently  constructed  in  America.  By 
far  the  most  notable  works  in  this  movement,  both  as  to 
character  and  quantity,  are  those  of  Mr.  Ralph  Adams  Cram 
and  Mr.  Bertram  Goodhue.  Amongst  the  most  important  of 

.191. 


Art  &  Religion 

these  churches  are  the  Episcopal  Cathedral,  Detroit;  St. 
Thomas's,  New  York;  Calvary,  Pittsburgh;  The  Euclid 
Avenue  Presbyterian,  Cleveland;  The  House  of  Hope, 
Presbyterian,  St.  Paul;  the  First  Baptist,  Pittsburgh;  the 
First  Presbyterian,  Oakland,  California;  the  Military 
Chapel  at  West  Point ;  the  South  Reformed,  New  York ;  the 
First  Congregational,  Montclair,  New  Jersey;  the  Chapel 
of  the  Intercession,  New  York.  These  works  vary  somewhat 
in  method  and  in  feeling  according  as  to  which  artist  dom- 
inated in  their  design  and  decoration  and  according  to  the 
requirements  of  the  parishes  themselves.  But  they  are  with- 
out exception  distinguished  buildings,  which  taken  together 
constitute  an  architectural  influence  that  is  likely  to  persist 
in  American  life  for  generations.  To  see  any  one  of  them  is 
to  be  immediately  aware  of  the  paucity  of  noble  architec- 
ture over  the  country  generally,  and  to  be  stirred  with  the 
undreamed  of  possibilities  before  us  as  a  rich  nation  begin- 
ning to  be  capable  of  expressing  itself  in  the  noblest  forms 
for  the  highest  enjoyments  of  the  spiritual  life. 

The  contributions  of  Mr.  Henry  Vaughan  to  this  Gothic 
movement  in  the  buildings  of  Christ  Church,  New  Haven, 
the  Chapel  of  Groton  School,  the  Chapel  of  Western  Re- 
serve University,  Cleveland,  and  others,  are  no  less  signifi- 
cant in  their  character.  Allen  &  Collens  have  built  the 
chapels  of  Union  Theological  Seminary,  Williams  College, 
and  Andover  Theological  Seminary;  the  Congregational 
Church,  West  Newton,  Massachusetts;  and  the  Skinner  Me- 
morial Chapel,  Holyoke,  Massachusetts — all  interesting 
and  excellent  examples  of  the  Gothic  revival.  A  structure 
which  will  draw  visitors  is  that  now  slowly  rising  at  Bryn 
Athyn,  Pennsylvania,  lovingly  built  by  the  Swedenborgian 
community  there.  On  a  larger  scale  than  any  of  these  are 
cathedrals  designed  for  New  York,  Baltimore,  and  Wash- 
ington. 

Stirred  by  this  movement,  many  other  churches  have  set 
out  to  build  in  the  Gothic  style,  some  of  the  small  buildings 
having  great  charm.  Others  have  not  come  very  near  the 
Gothic  spirit.  Many  possess  excellent  detail  of  tracery  or 
other  decoration,  but  are  too  wide  or  low  in  their  proportions 

•  192  • 


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Architectural  Style 

to  claim  as  much  kinship  with  the  Gothic  mode  as  they 
seem  to  have  desired  in  the  choice  of  details. 

On  the  whole,  considering  the  less  successful  as  well  as  the 
fewer  and  more  brilliant  examples,  the  total  number  of 
new  buildings  of  the  twentieth  century  expressing  this 
Gothic  revival  is  very  considerable,  spread  over  the  whole 
country  and  throughout  differing  religious  bodies. 

Toward  other  traditions,  also,  there  is  a  decided  tendency. 
The  Roman  Catholic  Church  is  just  now  using  almost  exclu- 
sively basilican  or  Romanesque  forms.  Some  of  these  build- 
ings are  in  the  earlier  Roman  style,  as  St.  Gregory's,  Brook- 
lyn, and  St.  Mary's  of  the  Lake,  Chicago.  Others  are  of  the 
later  Lombard  or  Tuscan  inspiration,  as  St.  Agnes' s,  Cleve- 
land, and  St.  Catherine's,  Somerville,  Massachusetts. 

Other  classic  work  throughout  the  country  is  extremely 
varied.  The  beautiful  Congregational  Church  of  Riverside, 
California,  in  a  region  where  there  are  still  remains  of 
Renaissance  Spanish  work,  is  appropriately  Spanish  in 
design.  The  Presbyterian  Church  of  St.  Joseph,  Missouri, 
has  built  one  of  the  most  successful  Colonial  buildings  re- 
cently attempted,  designed  by  Messrs.  Eckel  &  Boschen. 
It  escapes  a  very  common  fault  of  many  Colonial  revivals, 
that  of  too  great  size  and  heaviness  in  all  the  details,  such  as 
frames,  jambs,  entablatures,  and  cornices.  It  possesses  some- 
thing of  the  refinement  and  excellence  of  proportion  in  the 
early  New  England  buildings.  The  Byzantine  strain  has  not 
been  much  attempted  in  this  country.  The  most  notable 
modem  Byzantine  building  in  the  world  is  Westminster 
Cathedral,  London.  The  new  St.  Clement's  in  Chicago  is  a 
more  modest  Byzantine  structure. 

A  distinguished  building  which,  as  judged  by  its  spire  and 
parish  house,  one  would  call  Colonial,  is  Second  Parish 
Church  of  Boston,  designed  by  Mr.  Cram.  The  church  itself, 
however,  connects  farther  back.  Unlike  any  Colonial  Ameri- 
can building,  and  unlike  the  typical  English  Renaissance 
church,  it  has  a  clerestory,  greatly  elevating  the  nave.  The 
character  of  the  interior  colonnades,  barrel-vaulted  aisles 
and  coffered  nave  ceiling,  is  reminiscent  of  San  Lorenzo,  an 
early  Renaissance  church  in  Florence.  Although  there  are 

.195. 


Art  &  Religion 

many  other  excellent  structures,  perhaps  these  mentioned  are 
sufficient  to  establish  the  fact  that  present-day  architects 
are  finding  valuable  suggestions  in  widely  differing  periods 
of  the  historic  development  of  the  Graeco-Roman  lineage 
in  architecture. 

Such  being  the  fact,  what  about  the  future'?  Is  it  best  to 
pattern  after  some  historic  style?  If  so,  what  style?  If  not,  is 
it  possible  to  develop  a  new  and  American  style?  Architects 

themselves  hold  all  varieties  of  opinion.  | 

The  outstanding  protagonist  for  the  Gothic  revival  is  Mr. 

Cram.  His  various  books  are  almost  passionate  appeals  for  j 

a  return  to  the  mediaeval  age.  With  him,  as  with  all  true  i 

artists,  the  argument  is  far  deeper  than  a  love  of  Gothic  prin-  ; 

ciples  in  structure  or  Gothic  details  in  design.  He  is  a  lover  i 

of   mediaevalism   all    along   the   line,    the   philosophy   of  i 

Thomas  Aquinas,  the  guild  organization  of  industry,  and  j 

the  feudal  system  in  society.  Given  these  premises  one  must  ! 

build  as  a  Gothicist.  ] 

Other  builders  are  devoted  to  the  classic  strain.  Professor  j 

A.  D.  F.  Hamlin  is  a  vigorous  defender  of  the  Renaissance,  i 

not  only  admitting  that  it  incorporates  intimations  that  are  \ 

pagan,  but  claiming  that  it  ought  to.  "The  pagan  spirit,  i 

which  is  the  Renaissance  revival,  is  the  spirit  which  recog-  ; 

nizes  the  world  and  the  life  in  which  we  now  live,  and  uses  i 

and  enjoys  them  to  the  full;  not  as  an  antithesis  to  and  j 

destroyer  of  the  Christian  hope  in  the  life  to  come,  but  (if  ! 

rightly  cultivated  and  apprehended)  as  its  complement  and  | 

even  its  ally.  Neither  spirit  alone  is  sufficient  for  the  full  \ 

realization  of  our  natures  and  capacities:  in  the  greatest  I 

natures  they  are  conjoined."*  Mr.  Thomas  Hastings  bases  I 

his  usage  of  the  classic  mode  on  the  supposition  that  we  are  , 

still  children  of  the  Renaissance  and  live  in  the  age  begun  ' 

by  that  movement.  "What  determining  change  have  we  had  ; 

in  the  spirit  and  methods  of  life  since  the  revival  of  learning  i 

and  the  Reformation  to  justify  us  in  abandoning  the  Renais-  ' 

sance  or  in  reviving  mediaeval  art — Romanesque,  Gothic,  i 

Byzantine,  or  any  other  style?  Only  the  most  radical  changes  j 

in  the  history  of  civilization,  such  as,  for  example,  the  dawn  '■ 

*  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin,  the  Architectural  Record,  September,  1917,  p.  272.  ^ 

.196.  i 


Architectural  Style 

of  the  Christian  era  and  of  the  Reformation  and  the  revival 
of  learning,  have  brought  with  them  correspondingly  radical 
changes  in  architectural  style." 

This  is,  of  course,  precisely  the  point  at  issue.  If  we  are 
still  to  live  in  the  Renaissance-Refonnation  age,  Mr.  Hast- 
ings is  right.  If  this  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  age  in  any 
strict  sense  of  the  term,  then  the  door  is  open  for  the  revival 
of  any  historic  style  and  the  development  of  new  principles 
and  new  forms.  Mr.  Hastings  continues:  "The  best  Gothic 
work  has  been  done  and  cannot  be  repeated.  When  at- 
tempted, it  will  always  lack  that  kind  of  mediaeval  spirit 
of  devotion  which  is  the  life  of  mediaeval  architecture.  .  .  . 
Therefore,  whatever  we  now  build,  whether  church  or  dwell- 
ing, the  law  of  historic  development  requires  that  it  be  Re- 
naissance, and  if  we  encourage  the  true  principles  of  compo- 
sition it  will  involuntarily  be  a  modern  Renaissance,  and 
with  a  view  to  continuity  we  should  take  the  eighteenth 
century  as  our  starting  point,  because  here  practically  ended 
the  historic  progression  and  entered  the  modern  confusion."* 

The  Reverend  Professor  Edward  C.  Moore  in  1894,  in  his 
address  concerning  the  then  new  church  building  of  the 
Central  Congregational  Church  in  Providence,  Rhode  Is- 
land, said:  "It  has  been  my  thought  for  many  years  that 
there  was  no  style  of  architecture  so  suggestive  and  fitting 
for  a  Protestant  church  as  that  of  the  Renaissance.  As  the 
rise  of  Protestantism  itself  was  allied  with  the  rediscovery 
of  certain  elements  of  Greek  thought  and  the  application  of 
these  to  the  Roman  church  of  the  middle  age,  so  the  use  of 
pure  Greek  ornamentation  upon  the  massive  vault  and 
arches  of  the  Romanesque  order  seemed  to  express  the  same 
idea.  And  it  will  be  remembered  that  buildings  precisely  of 
this  sort  were  characteristically  produced  at  the  end  of  the 
Renaissance  and  in  the  time  of  the  Reformation." 

Other  artists  are  bold  enough  to  hope  for  the  devising  of 
new  forms  of  architecture  not  so  closely  inspired  by  any- 
thing in  the  history  of  the  art.  Mr.  Phillipps  writes:  "In 
these  days,  less  than  ever  can  Gothic  content  us,"  because 
religion  must  include  the  mind,  the  intellectual  as  well  as 

*  Hastings,  "Modern  Architecture,"  p.  7. 

.197. 


Art  &  Religion 

the  spiritual  aspects  of  experience.  Mr.  Pond  would  repu- 
diate the  legitimacy  of  a  return  to  any  historic  mode,  classic 
as  well  as  Gothic.  "Unless  modernism  can  spend  itself  in  an 
ecstasy  of  faith  like  that  of  mediaevalism  or  can  practice  the 
self-restraint,  submit  naturally  and  gracefully  to  the  keen 
intellectual  discipline  and  attain  to  the  high  idealism  of  the 
Greek,  it  is  quite  apparent  how  futile  it  were  to  seek  now  to 
express  the  un-unified  and  involved  modem  conditions  by 
any  return  in  their  purity  to  mediaeval  or  Greek  forms  in 
art."* 

He  believes  that  there  is  no  distinctly  Christian  architec- 
ture as  such,  inasmuch  as  the  history  of  Christendom  has 
developed  many  varied  styles,  but  that  architectural  style 
is  the  expression  of  the  temperament  and  feeling  of  any  age 
or  people  as  a  whole.  The  spirit  of  the  age  will  determine 
the  nature  of  the  structures.  "Mediaeval  Christianity  took 
on  its  emotionalism  because  the  age  was  emotional.  .  .  . 
Without  a  doubt  Christianity  was  the  fullest  flower  of 
mediaeval  thought  and  life,  and  because  of  that  the  reli- 
gious edifices  assumed  their  vast  proportions  and  developed 
a  plan  which  functioned  for  Christian  uses.  The  fact  that 
these  buildings  were  mediaeval  unsuits  them  in  great  meas- 
ure for  Christian  expression  today,  though  replicas,  trivial 
and  otherwise,  are  being  forced  into  present-day  Christian 
service.  Fully  as  logically  might  we  employ  the  pure  classic 
forms  in  the  same  service,  .  .  .  America  has  something 
worthy  of  expression,  some  ideal  worthy  of  interpretation 
in  creative  architecture.  No  imitator,  only  a  creator,  will 
discover  the  ideal  and  disclose  the  form."f 

Still  other  artists,  in  the  uncertainties  of  the  hour,  the 
character  of  the  new  age  being  as  yet  so  indeterminate,  and 
imbued  with  the  historic  continuity  of  human  life,  as  it  con- 
tinually revives  and  re-revives  ancient  problems  and  feel- 
ings, place  less  stress  upon  the  matter  of  style.  In  a  recent 
letter,  Mr.  William  Orr  Ludlow  writes:  "I  have  always 
taken  the  ground  that  almost  any  logical  and  beautiful  style 
can  be  used;  whether  it  be  .Gothic,  Colonial,  Romanesque,  or 

*  Pond,  "The  Meaning  of  Architecture,"  p.  in. 
■f  Ibid.,  p.  176. 

.198. 


Architectural  Style 

Renaissance,  and  that  the  question  as  to  which  is  to  be 
adopted  depends  on  the  money  and  material  avaihible,  the 
tradition  of  the  locality, — if  there  be  such, — and  the  im- 
mediate surroundings." 

The  Reverend  Professor  Frederick  T.  Persons  of  Bangor, 
Maine,  in  a  recent  address,  expresses  a  similar  view  as  his 
present  wisdom  on  these  mooted  questions :  "The  new  church 
architecture  will  not  be  confined  to  the  two  styles  mentioned 
— the  Colonial  and  the  Gothic.  Each  of  the  historic  styles 
at  its  highest  will  find  a  use.  In  an  old  eastern  town,  full  of 
Georgian  houses,  the  Colonial  will  always  be  in  place.  But  in 
the  newer  towns  and  cities,  some  phase  of  the  Gothic  will  be 
more  appropriate.  Even  the  basilica  will  occasionally  be 
used.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Romanesque  and  the 
Byzantine,  while  various  phases  of  the  Renaissance  will 
meet  the  needs  of  certain  communities,  particularly  in  the 
South  and  West,  where  the  Spanish  churches  and  missions 
will  suggest  appropriate  models  for  modern  churches.  In 
our  use  of  the  great  styles,  there  should  be  one  guiding 
principle.  It  is  comprehended  in  the  term  'translation.'  A 
translation  in  literature  is  the  carrying  over  a  masterpiece 
from  one  language  to  another,  so  that  its  essential  qualities 
are  preserved  in  the  new  tongue.  A  translation  in  architec- 
ture is  precisely  the  same  thing." 

My  own  feeling  about  the  question  is  that  we  must  go  into 
it  more  deeply  than  the  most  of  these  suggestions.  For  the 
time  being  there  is  little  else  to  be  done  than  to  work  with 
adaptations  or  "translations"  of  historic  styles,  together 
with  experiments  in  apparently  new  directions.  What  will 
come  next  after  this,  no  one  can  very  accurately  forecast. 
It  depends  upon  many  forces  and  factors.  If  there  is  a  con- 
tinued perpetuation  of  present-day  denominational  differ- 
ences, a  like  confusion  and  separatism  will  characterize  the 
art  of  building.  If  there  are  vital  and  imaginative  move- 
ments in  the  direction  of  unity  of  religious  thought  and  feel- 
ing and  purpose,  there  will  be  in  aichitecture  equally  strong 
movements  expressive  of  the  vital  life  underneath. 

There  are  two  great  faults  in  the  current  Gothic  revival. 
Both  criticisms  relate  to  the  comparative  provincialism  and 

.199. 


Art  &  Religion 

separatism  amongst  the  different  sectarian  strains  of  spirit- 
ual lineage.  On  the  one  hand,  the  use  of  Gothic  details  in  the 
buildings  of  non-liturgical  churches,  is  for  the  most  part  so 
superficial  and  so  connected  with  ungothic  qualities  in  struc- 
ture and  in  proportion,  that  one  feels  the  disharmony  pro- 
foundly. This  is  further  magnified,  usually,  by  the  kind 
of  service  conducted  in  the  building.  This  disharmony  of  the 
service  is  still  greater  if  the  building  is  better.  I  happen  to 
know  of  one  church  which  in  all  its  proportions  and  details 
is  singularly  rich  in  genuine  Gothic  feeling,  but  where  the 
minister  who  conducts  the  service  appears  to  be  totally  un- 
aware of  the  sort  of  building  he  is  in.  Certainly  no  one 
should  attempt  to  revive  the  Gothic  style  unless  he  wishes 
to  revive  also  at  least  some  important  elements  of  mediaeval 
worship. 

This  objection  does  not  obtain  against  the  other  element 
in  the  current  Gothic  revival.  This  other  factor  is  the  natural 
and  proper  use  of  the  Gothic  style  by  the  Episcopal  Church. 
In  this  case,  of  course,  the  buildings  are  more  true  to  type 
because  they  are  designed  for  the  uses  of  a  more  nearly 
mediaeval  liturgy.  The  criticism  here,  therefore,  is  not  of 
the  buildings  themselves,  but  of  the  sectarian  lineage  as 
being  inadequate  for  the  new  age,  if  we  are  to  have  a  new 
age.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  gifted  artists  who  have  de- 
signed these  delightful  and  truly  wonderful  new  Gothic 
churches  in  America  that  they  have  built  something  which 
does  not  look  sufficiently  forward  to  anticipate  the  feelings 
of  the  new  age:  it  is  the  fault  of  the  church  behind  the 
artists.  American  architecture  in  general  cannot  closely  fol- 
low this  lead,  for  however  scholarly  and  brilliant  it  may 
be  in  its  own  tradition,  it  is  not  a  tradition  sufficiently  com- 
prehensive to  gather  to  itself  the  complex  and  commingled 
strains  of  our  spiritual  character.  Like  others,  it  is  now 
provincial  and  separatistic,  only  one  of  the  elements  in  the 
new  religion.  There  are  many  new  hopes  and  aspirations  of 
the  American  people  which  are  not  adequately  expressed  by 
the  church  building  or  by  the  liturgy  of  the  Anglican  tradi- 
tion. 

There  ought  to  be  added,  however,  the  suggestion  that  a 

•  200- 


Architectural  Style 

new  attention  to  the  art  of  worship  will  likely  revive  many 
good  things  from  mediaeval  liturgies.  If  this  should  be  the 
case,  as  I  believe  it  will,  buildings  of  Gothic  derivation  will 
be  appropriate  where  the  people  understand  and  desire  this 
meaning. 

In  many  ways  it  is,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  easier  to 
express  new  thoughts  by  the  usage  of  some  one  of  the  classic 
periods  as  the  inspiration  for  a  modern  church  building.  Yet 
it  is  not  easy  to  select  any  one  of  these  as  an  adequate  mode. 
To  go  far  back  to  Greece  or  to  Rome  is  to  place  too  much 
paganism  in  the  structure  and  also  to  come  too  close,  as  the 
Christian  Scientists  have  done,  to  the  forms  characteristic 
of  our  state  houses  and  post  offices.  The  early  basilica  is  too 
administrative  and  too  authoritative.  Some  kinds  of  Renais- 
sance are  too  secular,  worldly,  or  elegant.  Some  of  the 
Romanesque  is  too  crude.  Further  work  in  the  Colonial 
strain  will  be  appropriate  for  some  churches.  Further  "trans- 
lations" of  certain  ideas  or  motives  in  Byzantine,  Roman- 
esque, and  early  Renaissance  structures  can  be  made  vital 
and  beautiful. 

Can  there  be  a  new  architecture  *?  In  the  sense  of  discon- 
nectedness with  the  past,  no;  any  more  than  there  can  be  a 
new  learning  disconnected  from  history.  In  the  sense  of 
freshly  saying  what  we  newly  experience  and  feel  about  life, 
yes.  What  will  the  new  architecture  be?  No  one  can  say 
until  the  genius  arrives  who  will  know  us  so  well  that  he  can 
describe  us.  If  you  can  say  when  the  great  American  novel 
will  appear,  you  will  also  date  the  advent  of  the  great 
American  church. 

It  will  not  be  pure  Gothic,  though  it  often  use  the  pointed 
arch,  but  have  something  about  it  of  greater  breadth,  com- 
prehensiveness, and  intellectuality.  It  will  express  a  greater 
clarity  of  mind,  even  about  the  past.  It  will  teach  the  youth 
the  glorious  history  of  the  church  more  artistically  and 
S}Tnbolically  than  the  bare  churches  do,  but  less  vaguely  and 
narrowly  than  by  the  shadowy  figures  in  a  Gothic  portal  or 
reredos. 

It  will  not  be  pure  Renaissance,  but  intimate  more  aspira- 
tion, more  faith,  more  zeal.  It  will  correct  the  wandering 

•  201  • 


Art  &  Religion 

eclecticism  and  futile  false  freedom  that  is  a  passing  phase 
of  our  life.  By  greater  height,  it  will  lift  the  emotions,  and 
by  greater  length  fix  the  will,  to  definite  choice  and  devotion. 
Nor  will  it  be  so  tentlike  and  temporary  as  our  common 
American  church,  which  has  neither  classic  lucidity  of  mind 
nor  Gothic  passion.  Yet  it  will  rise  out  of  our  best  common 
American  morality.  With  new  forms  for  the  new  time  it  will 
yet  be  built  upon  the  best  in  the  Classicist's  love  of  truth, 
the  Romanticist's  love  of  nature's  beauty,  and  the  Puritan's 
zeal  for  goodness. 


202 


Chapter  XX :  Structural  Tone 

MANY  people  are  aware  of  being  affected  by  the 
tones  of  rooms.  They  have  said  to  themselves, 
What  a  peaceful  place!  or  they  have  felt  restless 
and  uncomfortable  without  knowing  precisely  why.  It  is 
possible  immediately  and  profoundly  to  influence  people  by 
the  tonal  character  of  an  interior.  Every  competent  house 
decorator  is  not  only  aware  of  this  but  is  a  student  of  the 
physical  arrangements  of  shape  and  of  color,  of  lights  and 
of  shadows,  which  will  produce  his  desired  effects.  Every 
stage  manager  knows  something  about  this  and  the  best  of 
them  know  a  great  deal  about  it.  Designers  of  churches 
ought  to  know  a  great  deal  about  it.  If  common  people  take 
the  trouble  to  design  cheerful  playrooms  or  cheerful  bed- 
rooms, quiet  reading  rooms  and  stimulating  dining  rooms, 
how  much  more  should  building  committees  seek  to  define 
the  tone  they  desire  in  the  House  of  God  and  seek  to  under- 
stand the  physical  compositions  that  produce  that  tone. 

Just  precisely  what  physical  arrangements  can  be  counted 
upon  for  certain  atmospheric  effects  is  hard  to  say.  This  is 
the  point  at  which  we  must  fall  back  upon  the  genius  of  the 
artist.  Partly  it  depends  upon  the  style  of  the  structure.  As 
already  suggested,  the  definite  historic  styles  in  themselves 
intimate  certain  emotional  attitudes.  Buildings  which  are 
not  constructed  in  one  of  the  great  historic  modes  are,  as 
would  be  expected,  not  very  effective  in  intimating  anything. 
They  are  neutral  and  nondescript,  negative  in  their  effects 
because  not  positive  in  their  structural  character. 

Probably  a  good  deal  more,  however,  depends  upon  the 
treatment  of  the  style  than  upon  the  style  itself.  A  Gothic 
building,  active  in  structural  principle,  may  be  so  designed 
as  to  produce  an  effect  of  greater  repose  than  a  badly  con- 
structed classic  building.  The  problem  of  a  successful 
church,  therefore,  is  not  solved  merely  by  the  determination 

.203. 


Art  &  Religion 

of  its  style ;  it  turns  also  upon  the  manner  of  treatment  to  the 
end  of  producing  a  definite  effect  of  tone. 

I  am  not  attempting  to  solve  the  question  here,  but  rather 
to  raise  it,  and  to  indicate  two  or  three  of  the  most  common 
faults  and  two  or  three  of  the  desirable  virtues  in  this 
matter.  One  goes  into  a  church  and  straightway  pronounces 
it  cold,  or  homelike,  or  splendid,  or  elegant,  or  restless,  or 
warm,  or  bare,  or  cheerful.  Obviously  none  of  these  qualities 
is  sufficient  for  a  House  of  God  and  no  church  is  successful 
if  any  of  these  adjectives  can  be  applied  to  it  as  its  chief 
characteristic. 

Definite  tonal  effects  are  easily  produced  if  you  know 
how.  Not  long  since,  I  went  into  a  moving  picture  theater 
that  is  more  than  ordinarily  popular.  The  method  used  in 
this  place  was  that  of  a  lavish  display  of  color.  The  orches- 
tral numbers  between  pictures  were  accompanied  by  skilful 
color  settings,  changed  and  modulated,  until  the  rainbow 
itself  was  outdone.  The  color  was  literally  sweet  and  syrupy. 
It  was  cloying  and  atrocious,  but  popular,  and  the  artist 
knew  precisely  what  he  was  doing  with  the  clientele  to  which 
he  made  his  appeal.  The  tone  he  developed  in  his  theater  is 
not  a  fit  tone  for  a  church.  But  the  fact  of  his  taking  the 
pains  to  develop  it,  while  the  average  church  takes  no  pains 
to  develop  an  effective  tone,  is  at  least  one  of  the  reasons 
why  he  gets  more  people  than  the  church  does. 

The  most  of  church  buildings  fail,  not  because  they  can 
be  at  once  so  easily  described,  but  because  they  are  simply 
indefinite,  Neutral,  with  no  very  positive  qualities  at  all. 
The  average  church  interior  is  uninteresting.  Without  neces- 
sarily being  ugly  in  detail,  there  is  no  commanding  excel- 
lence. The  tinted  walls,  commonplace  woodwork,  and  in- 
ferior windows  rouse  no  surprise  or  delight  in  the  visitor  and 
become  a  deadening  influence  on  the  regular  worshiper.  The 
organ  pipes  which  usually  occupy  the  most  noticeable  space 
may  not  in  themselves  be  offensive,  but  it  is  a  proverty- 
stricken  imagination  which  can  conceive  no  more  significant 
treatment  of  that  precious  space.  Your  building  will  have  an 
effect  whether  you  want  it  to  or  not,  and  this  effect  of  in- 
effectiveness is  one  of  the  most  unfortunate. 

•204- 


Structural  Tone 

Very  close  to  the  fault  of  neutrality  is  that  of  Com- 
fortableness. Some  churches  are  so  warm  and  cosy,  with 
curving  and  well-cushioned  pews,  that  the  note  of  ease  or 
comfort  predominates.  There  is  a  kind  of  family-at-home 
feeling  about  this  atmosphere  which  is  pleasant,  but  it  is 
not  sufficient  for  a  church.  Sometimes  a  parish  is  so  insistent 
on  expressing  its  character  in  this  way,  though  perhaps  sub- 
consciously, that  the  air  of  a  building  good  in  other  respects 
is  vitiated  by  this  fault. 

A  very  recently  built  church  with  several  highly  success- 
ful features  of  the  structure,  has  been  spoiled,  in  my  view, 
by  this  tone  of  treatment.  In  this  case  it  is  so  easy  to  specify 
the  physical  factors  responsible  for  the  fault  as  to  be  worth 
especial  note.  The  building  is  the  First  Methodist  Church 
of  Evanston,  Illinois.  In  structure,  it  is  very  much  more 
true  to  the  proper  feeling  of  its  style  than  many  recent 
church  buildings  in  that  style.  It  is  a  beautiful  building; 
in  the  composition  of  the  exterior  facade,  in  the  height  of 
the  structural  aisles  and  the  proportions  of  nave  arches  and 
aisle  windows,  in  the  lift  of  the  walls  by  a  clerestory,  in  the 
beamed  ceiling  and  in  other  features. 

But  much  of  the  structural  effect  is  thrown  away  by  an 
interior  treatment  entirely  out  of  harmony  with  it.  It  is 
merely  comfortable.  Three  things  make  it  so.  First,  the 
strongly  marked  and  strongly  felt  curves  of  the  gallery  balus- 
trade, both  forward  and  rear,  and  of  the  pews  on  the  floor 
are  alone  sufficient  to  produce  this  sense  of  comfort.  These, 
by  the  way,  constitute  a  great  divergence  from  the  tone  of 
the  structure  itself.  Paradoxically,  this  divergence  makes 
you  uncomfortable,  the  curved  lines  being  set  over  against 
the  lift  of  the  piers  and  the  vertical  lines  of  the  organ  case. 
This  gallery,  like  the  running  track  of  a  gymnasium,  cuts 
directly  across  the  dominant  structural  lines.  Nevertheless, 
seated  on  the  first  floor  one  gets  chiefly  the  comfortable  feel- 
ing of  the  curved  lines.  This  is  enhanced  by  the  second  ele- 
ment, the  softly  modulated  color  scheme.  In  the  third  place, 
there  is  nothing  in  the  foreground  composition  of  platform, 
choir  loft,  and  organ  pipes,  either  in  design  or  color,  to 
break  this  comfortable  monotony. 

•205- 


Art  ©  Religion 

There  is  nothing  in  the  tone  of  this  structure  to  give  you, 
on  the  one  hand,  a  certain  sense  of  austerity  which  ought  to 
characterize  a  House  of  God,  nor,  on  the  other,  anything 

sharp  or  brilliant  to  quicken  the  emotions  and  fire  the  imag-  | 

ination.  A  church  ought  to  have  peace  and  repose  about  it,  j 

but  not  the  merely  physical  peace  of  comfortableness.  It  "I 

only  soothes  the  senses  and  does  not  symbolize  the  peace  of  ■ 

a  noble  faith.  ^ 

Many  people  have  objected  to  a  stained  glass  window,  i 

or  a  picture,  or  candles,  or  an  altar,  or  a  symbolic  table  as  j 

being  a  sensuous  element  without  place  in  a  spiritual  move-  ! 

ment.  But  this  church,  seemingly  designed  for  people  who  \ 

desired  a  spiritual  experience  without  these  sensuous  aids,  ! 

is  in  fact  far  more  sensuous  in  its  soporific  comfortableness  ; 

than  a  little  Catholic  chapel  with  bare  walls  and  a  single  i 

pictured  Madonna.  The  picture  appeals  to  the  senses,  to  be  ■ 

sure,  but  with  some  hope  of  a  spiritual  effect.  This  church  ■ 

strongly  affects  the  senses  without  any   further  spiritual  I 

effect.  I 

As  our  Protestant  churches  grow  rich  and  wish  to  beautify  ] 

their  houses  of  worship,  there  is  constant  danger  of  this  fault  j 

of  Sensuousness.  A  building  may  be  devoid  of  effigies  or  i 

shrines  and  yet  constitute  a  lower  appeal  to  the  physical  ] 
senses  than  do  candles  and  crosses.  The  attempt  to  produce 
a  building  in  which  a  religious  community  may  enjoy  a  free 

spiritual  experience  sometimes  results  in  something  the  effect  j 

of  which  is  more  fleshly  and  materialistic  than  the  symbolic  ' 

forms  so  carefully  avoided.  | 

Another  common  fault  is  the  atmosphere  of  Coldness.  ] 

Many  church  buildings  are  not  merely  uninteresting,  they  ; 

are  definitely  dreary.  Some  that  are  excellent  in  style,  pro-  j 

portion,  and  decorative  detail  are  nevertheless  cold.  The  j 

present  interior  of  the  Asylum  Hill  Church  of  Hartford,  ! 
Connecticut,  is  open  to  this  criticism.  The  exterior  is  warm 

and  pleasant;  the  Gothic  piers  and  arches  of  the  interior  are  j 

beautiful  in  scale  and  design;  the  new  woodwork  in  the  j 

chancel  is  exquisitely  designed;  but  the  total  result  is  some-  '. 

how  too  cool.  If  this  effect  is  produced  in  a  building  other-  \ 

wise  so  interesting  and  excellent,  how  much  more  is  it  liable  ; 

. 206 •  ^ 


Structural  Tone 

to  be  found  where  proportions  are  wrong  and  decorative 
details  ugly.  There  are  many  American  churches  which  repel 
people  because  they  are  chilly  and  barren  in  atmosphere. 

Recently  the  fault  of  Agitation  has  been  developed  in 
some  church  buildings.  It  is  usually  found  in  a  structure 
consistent  in  style  but  badly  handled  in  the  matter  of  scale. 
The  feeling  is  often  due  to  the  attempt  to  treat  a  small  struc- 
ture in  the  same  manner  as  a  large  one.  I  have  noticed  several 
buildings  in  the  Gothic  style,  of  moderate  or  small  size,  with 
as  many  structural  members  as  could  safely  be  utilized  only 
in  a  much  larger  building.  The  main  lines  of  the  composition 
are  lost  in  the  manifold  of  detail.  The  effect  is  agitated. 
Such  a  building  lacks  quietness.  It  is  in  itself  disturbing  and 
disagreeable,  however  successful  the  details  may  be,  con- 
sidered by  themselves. 

To  turn  from  faults  to  desirable  virtues,  the  first  require- 
ment in  the  tone  of  a  religious  structure  is  Repose.  The 
reason  for  this  is  a  fundamental  one,  the  claim  of  the  suffi- 
ciency of  religion.  No  religion  is  satisfactory  unless  it  is 
believed  to  be  entirely  competent  to  meet  every  human  need. 
Men  turn  to  religion  and  to  the  House  of  God  to  escape  the 
common  world  of  defeat,  or  shame,  or  injustice,  to  find  the 
real  world  of  the  eternal  goodness. 

The  church  building  itself  ought  to  be  and  can  be  of  such 
a  character  as  to  draw  people  by  its  very  atmosphere  of  har- 
mony and  of  peace.  It  ought  to  be  so  noble  and  dignified  as 
itself  to  constitute  a  strong  effect  of  the  sufficiency  of  the 
faith  to  compose  the  hurt  or  faulty  feelings  of  all  those  who 
come  to  it  in  their  need.  Men  are  not  attracted  by  an  insuffi- 
cient faith.  It  is  possible  for  the  church  to  say  to  people  by 
its  very  architecture.  Here  is  a  place  that  understands:  here 
is  a  faith  that  comprehends  all  things. 

In  a  general  way  the  chief  requirement  in  a  structure 
which  is  to  have  something  of  this  quality  is  the  subordina- 
tion of  every  feature  to  the  principal  lines  of  the  total 
design. 

The  next  most  important  note  for  a  church  building  is 
that  of  Austerity.  This  also  is  rooted  in  the  necessities  of 
religion  itself.  A  man  cannot  come  to  God  and  keep  anything 

•  207  • 


Art  &  Religion 

back.  He  must  bare  himself  in  sincerity  and  in  truth.  The 
laws  of  nature  are  unyielding  and  religion  can  never  afford 
to  become  soft  and  easy.  It  is  possible  for  the  church  building 
itself  to  help  people  to  be  truthful  with  themselves.  There 
should  be  something  stern  and  rigorous  about  the  structure, 
something  restrained  and  austere.  A  church  cannot  be  like  a 
theater  or  a  drawing  room,  it  must  ever  call  for  the  morti- 
fication of  the  flesh  and  the  regnancy  of  the  conscience. 

It  is  difficult  for  the  artist  to  accomplish  this  without 
making  the  building  cold,  but  it  is  possible.  He  can  so  re- 
strain the  application  of  his  decoration,  he  can  so  skilfully 
use  a  texture  of  surface  or  a  color  of  surface  as  to  develop 
this  sense  of  austerity  in  the  building  itself,  if  he  has  the 
desire  and  the  skill  to  do  so. 

The  qualities  already  mentioned  require  two  others  to 
counterbalance  them.  Warmth  and  Brilliance.  By  warmth  I 
mean  something  that  will  welcome  the  lonely  and  the 
troubled  so  that  the  austere  aspects  of  the  building  will  not 
be  forbidding.  There  are  various  resources  of  the  artist  for 
the  attainment  of  this  note.  Every  architect  knows  the  mean- 
ing of  an  "inviting  entrance,"  although  not  every  architect 
succeeds  in  making  one. 

The  use  of  color  in  the  narthex,  vestibule,  or  foyer,  or  in  a 
properly  placed  window,  may  succeed  in  sufficiently  express- 
ing this  requirement.  It  is  important  to  beware  of  gloom. 
Sometimes  an  arrangement  of  sheer  form  has  a  strong  effect 
on  the  tonal  character  of  an  interior.  Amongst  the  designs 
of  the  more  modern  achitecture,  I  have  seen  one  that  inti- 
mates good  cheer  at  once.  It  is  the  use,  under  a  wide  pointed 
arch,  of  concave  rather  than  convex  lines  of  window  tracery. 
The  effect  is  an  almost  dancing  lightness. 

Something  brilliant  I  believe  to  be  needed  to  make  a 
successful  church  building.  The  building  should  of  itself 
stimulate  the  imagination  and  fire  resolves.  The  repose  of 
the  structural  composition  and  the  austerity  of  the  surface 
treatment  need  to  be  supplemented  by  a  more  active  princi- 
ple. 

Part  of  this  effect  may  come  from  the  structure  itself,  as 
in  the  case  of  a  truly  characteristic  Gothic  building,  which, 

.208. 


-S8 


"■^    •*->    -ii 

'-'  -2  -^  -2 


^t-^ 


'K-s 


s  R 


^ 


Structural  Tone 

although  it  may  have  a  certain  repose  of  commanding  lines, 
has  also  a  vigorous  activity  in  the  spring  of  high  vaults.  The 
historic  solution  of  this  requirement  is,  of  course,  the  altar, 
which,  with  the  decorations  upon  it,  or  those  of  the  reredos 
back  of  it,  or  ciborium  over  it,  constitutes  an  object  intensely 
stimulating  to  the  imagination.  Without  this,  however,  it  is 
still  possible  for  the  artist  to  develop  decorative  motives, 
either  massed  or  scattered,  which  will  promote  a  mental 
activity.  The  use  of  windows,  murals,  mosaics,  statues,  or 
symbolic  designs  in  the  focal  part  of  the  structure  may 
accomplish  what  is  needed  in  this  direction. 

Three  other  matters  have  always  a  powerful  effect  upon 
the  structural  tone  of  any  building,  the  matters  of  propor- 
tion, scale,  and  materials.  The  relation  of  height,  breadth, 
and  length  has  immediately  to  do  with  the  feeling  one  gets 
from  a  building.  In  a  general  way,  as  already  intimated, 
breadth  of  structure  is  characteristic  of  the  classic  heritage 
and  feeling,  intimating  an  intellectual  inclusiveness.  If  the 
latitude  is  too  great,  it  suggests  a  too  matter-of-fact  view  of 
life.  The  longer  and  higher  structure  is  the  more  emotional 
and  active  and  perhaps  the  more  mystical.  A  genuine  Gothic 
building  is  very  long  and  very  high  in  proportion  to  its 
width.  It  is  possible  to  choose  a  classic  style  of  detail  and 
build  with  a  spirit  almost  Gothic,  by  the  increase  of  length 
and  height.  Just  so,  Gothic  details  may  be  applied  to  a 
building  so  wide  as  to  become  uncharacteristic  in  structural 
tone.  In  such  cases,  it  is  obviously  better  to  use  the  style 
which  more  truly  comports  with  the  desired  proportions  and 
tone. 

In  any  case,  an  oblong  space  is  superior  to  a  square  one. 
There  are  few  successful  equilateral  churches  in  the  world 
and  the  most  of  these  are  strongly  modified  as  to  interior 
proportion  by  the  addition  of  an  apse  or  choir,  as  in  San 
Vitale,  Ravenna,  or  by  the  extension  of  semi-domes,  as  in 
the  ancient  Byzantine  churches.  The  square  interior  makes 
a  focal  point  of  interest  almost  impossible.  It  hinders  con- 
centration of  attention  or  of  action.  Even  although  we  may 
not  wish  to  use  the  Gothic  style,  our  age  probably  needs  a 
corrective  to  its  scattering  and  individualistic  effort  and 

•  211  • 


Art  &  Religion 

more  of  the  spirit  of  concentrated  ideals  and  common  devo- 
tion, which  may  be  greatly  assisted  by  buildings  more  nearly 
Gothic  in  their  proportions. 

Other  important  matters  hinge  upon  the  problem  of  scale. 
A  large  building  where,  also,  all  the  apertures  and  all  the 
decorative  designs  are  large,  will  appear  to  be  smaller  than  { 
it  is,  as,  for  instance,  St.  Peter's  in  Rome.  A  small  church  : 
may  be  made  to  appear  larger  if  the  doors  and  windows  are  ' 
minimized  and  if  the  furniture  of  the  interior  is  designed  \ 
as  small  as  possible  in  scale.  Oftentimes  the  uncomfortable  ! 
agitation  of  a  moderate-sized  building  is  due  to  faulty  scale.  | 
A  change  in  the  scale  of  all  details  would  yield  in  many  a  j 
church  a  tone  of  dignity  and  repose  which  it  now  lacks.  ; 

Very  much  can  be  accomplished  for  the  structural  tone  of  'i 
a  building  by  the  right  choice  of  materials.  My  own  feeling  j 
is  that  bare  stone  or  bare  brick  is  far  superior  for  the  interior  \ 
of  a  church  to  anything  else.  The  desirable  austerity  of  the  t 
building  cannot  be  so  directly  accomplished  in  any  other  . 
way.  These  surfaces,  however,  will  produce  a  sense  of  cold-  ] 
ness  unless  the  builders  are  willing  to  introduce  strongly  con-  \ 
trasting  elements  of  warmth  or  brilliance  such  as  have  been  •> 
suggested.  Some  of  the  recently  built  churches  with  stone  | 
interiors,  amongst  non-liturgical  bodies,  are  decidedly  cold  ; 
because  of  insufficient  color  in  other  ways.  They  need  altars,  j 
or  murals,  or  banners,  or  bright  vestments  to  give  them  fire  I 
and  warmth. 

A  building  committee  need  not  be  afraid  of  the  cheaper  ' 
grades  of  material.  It  is  more  important  to  employ  a  compe-  \ 
tent  artist  who  will  produce  a  successful  design  of  the  right ! 
proportion  and  scale  than  it  is  to  spend  the  money  for  costly  j 
materials.  A  very  beautiful  church  may  be  made  of  the  i 
cheapest  brick,  unplastered  outside  or  inside,  if  the  structure  \ 
is  well  designed.  I  have  often  seen  church  buildings  overly] 
fine  and  elaborate,  the  surface  finish  running  ahead  of  struc-  j 
tural  invention  and  tonal  character.  Apartment  house  brick  i 
in  a  building  well  designed  is  better  than  marble  badly  | 
fashioned.  Pine  boards,  simply  stained,  if  well  cut,  are  better  ■. 
than  rosewood,  varnished  and  polished,  in  shapes  inappro-^i 
priate  to  a  church.  ; 

•212-  I 


Structural  Tone 

No  one  but  an  artist  can  solve  these  questions  of  structural 
tone.  This  does  not  always  mean  a  professional  artist.  There 
are  humble  parsons  who  have  more  artistic  feeling  than  some 
conspicuous  architects.  As  a  general  rule,  however,  only  the 
very  best  professional  architects  know  enough  about  all  these 
matters  of  light  and  shadow,  color,  texture,  scale,  propor- 
tion, and  design  to  put  together  many  elements  into  a  simple 
and  successful  composition  for  a  church, 

A  church  building  casts  its  influence  upon  a  community 
for  years,  sometimes  for  generations.  A  noble  building  seems 
to  have  an  almost  living  air  and  spirit,  and  may  become  a 
benign  power  in  the  lives  of  the  people  round  about  it.  It  is  a 
great  blessing  to  any  town  to  possess  such  a  structure.  It  is 
to  do  one  of  the  most  certain  of  public  goods  to  have  a  hand 
in  the  erection  of  a  beautiful  church. 


•213 


Chapter  XXI:  The  Chancel 

THERE  is  an  outstanding  fact  respecting  church 
building  in  America  which  is  remarkably  significant. 
It  is  the  fact  that  numbers  of  buildings  have  been 
erected  for  the  use  of  so-called  non-liturgical  churches  with 
the  communion  table  as  the  center  of  the  interior  composi- 
tion. Although  strictly  speaking  the  word  chancel  refers  to 
the  railing  which  separates  the  space  allotted  especially  to 
the  clergy,  there  is  no  better  word  to  use  in  describing  the 
separated  space  that  is  formed  in  the  apse  of  the  church 
when  the  communion  table  is  placed  at  the  head  of  the  build- 
ing, somewhat  elevated,  the  pulpit  upon  one  side  forward, 
and  the  lectern  on  the  other  side  forward. 

Such  an  arrangement,  even  by  historical  usage  of  the 
term,  may  properly  be  called  a  chancel,  though  in  a  larger 
church  this  space  may  incorporate  also  the  choir.  This  is, 
of  course,  the  arrangement  used  in  the  early  Christian  basili- 
cas. It  has  been  perpetuated  in  the  West  in  the  Roman 
Catholic,  Anglican,  Lutheran,  and  to  some  extent  in  other 
bodies.  Now  it  is  being  revived  with  remarkable  rapidity 
among  the  free  churches.  The  illustrations  of  this  volume 
display  some  of  the  most  successful  of  those  recently  con- 
structed. 

I  am  sure  that  I  do  not  know  of  all  of  them,  but  I  do  have 
information  of  more  than  fifty  of  these  churches  outside  of 
the  Roman  Catholic,  Episcopal,  Lutheran,  and  Reformed 
Communions.  This  is  a  sufficient  number  to  constitute  an 
architectural  tendency  of  note.  A  few  of  these  are  not  recent. 
The  First  Parish  Church  and  the  Central  Church,  Boston, 
are  older  buildings  with  this  arrangement.  The  latter  was 
built  by  Upjohn  in  1867.  The  Central  Church  of  Provi- 
dence, Rhode  Island,  and  the  Central  Church  of  Worcester, 
Massachusetts,  also  follow  the  ancient  usage.  Not  all  of  the 
Reformed  churches  have  kept  the  plan,  but  a  large  number 

•  214- 


The  Chancel 

of  them,  especially  in  Pennsylvania,  have  not  only  a  chancel 
but  an  altar  in  them.  Most  of  the  others  are  altogether 
twentieth  century  buildings. 

It  is  extremely  significant  that  this  movement  has  been 
developing  not  merely  in  one  body  but  in  several  and  in 
widely  scattered  communities.  And  it  is  altogether  too  ex- 
tensive a  movement  to  be  laid  to  the  door  of  any  small 
coterie  of  artists  or  of  ministers.  It  is  rather  a  growing  ex- 
pression of  dissatisfaction  with  present  forms,  of  an  expand- 
ing culture,  and  of  the  spirit  of  experimentation.  Presby- 
terian, Congregational,  Unitarian,  Baptist,  Methodist  Epis- 
copal, and  Universalist  churches  are  represented  in  the  list. 

The  reasons  for  this  development  are  several  and  in 
several  areas — artistic,  ecclesiastical,  religious,  and  prac- 
tical. 

Probably  the  chief  feeling  which  has  prompted  the  move- 
ment is  artistic.  Every  work  of  art  is  a  composition  in  har- 
mony. Every  artistic  composition  has  some  clearly  selected 
method  of  unity,  some  plan  of  bringing  together  diverse  and 
manifold  elements  into  the  single  accord  of  the  whole.  In 
painting,  there  is  a  point  of  "high  light"  upon  which  the 
lines  of  light  and  shadow  converge,  and  to  which  the  eye 
turns  naturally  and  easily.  Pictures  which  do  not  possess 
excellence  of  composition  are  unsatisfying  to  the  physical 
sense  and  thus  aesthetically  weak. 

Just  so,  an  architectural  interior  is  satisfactory  according 
as  the  physical  composition  is  so  unified  as  to  assist  the  com- 
posure of  the  feelings  of  people  in  it.  It  needs  a  "high  light," 
a  point  of  commanding  interest,  in  precisely  the  same  way 
as  does  a  painting.  The  communion  table  or  altar  at  the  head 
of  the  apse  is  artistically  a  far  better  center  for  the  composi- 
tion than  a  pulpit. 

The  pulpit  is  usually  an  upstanding  vertical  object  set  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  split  up  the  space  and  divide  the  atten- 
tion rather  than  center  it.  You  may  go  into  almost  any 
annual  exhibition  of  painters'  societies  and  you  will  find 
very  few  vertical  compositions.  Portraits  are  often  such,  but 
the  peculiar  elements  of  interest  in  a  portrait  make  it  a  more 
successful  vertical  composition  than  a  pulpit  can  ever  be. 

.215. 


Art  &  Religion 

The  pulpit  is  not  especially  interesting  unless  there  is  some- 
one in  it.  It  is  therefore  not  a  successful  "high  light"  during 
all  the  parts  of  the  public  service  other  than  the  sermon 
and  for  all  other  uses  of  the  church  building. 

Perhaps  more  profoundly  still  the  artistic  advantage  of 
the  chancel  arrangement  is  its  depth.  Attention  is  not  only 
scattered  but  blocked  and  limited  by  a  great  unrelieved  wall 
space.  By  the  more  remote  chancel,  and  its  smaller  area, 
attention  is  gathered  together,  led  forward,  and  concen- 
trated. These  and  other  artistic  reasons  are  in  themselves 
sufficient  to  demand  the  change  which  is  taking  place  in  the 
present-day  architectural  treatment  of  the  church  interior. 

The  religious  and  ecclesiastical  reasons  are  more  impor- 
tant to  some  than  the  artistic.  The  pulpit  at  the  center  cer- 
tainly tends  to  throw  the  chief  dependence  of  the  service 
upon  the  sermon,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  greatly  to  mini- 
mize the  possibilities  and  values  of  other  exercises  of  wor- 
ship. A  successful  chancel  far  better  creates  an  atmosphere 
of  worship  before  ever  the  service  begins.  And  after  the  ser- 
vice has  begun,  it  fosters  reverence  through  all  the  parts.  It 
tends  to  minimize  the  personality  of  the  minister  and  to 
merge  him  into  the  background  as  a  voice  and  messenger  of 
the  historic  church  and  the  communal  faith. 

Moreover,  it  differentiates  his  priestly  and  prophetic  func- 
tions, thus  enriching  and  clarifying  the  aspects  of  the  reli- 
gious experience.  Strangely  enough,  it  accomplishes  all  this 
without  losing  the  vitality  or  function  of  the  pulpit.  Leaving 
the  chancel  and  ascending  the  pulpit,  the  minister  thus 
selects  it  as  the  appointed  station  for  his  own  free  utterance 
and  whatever  prophetic  word  has  been  given  him  to  speak. 
The  sermon  is  not  minimized,  while  other  parts  of  the  ser- 
vice may  be  greatl}^  improved  by  the  greater  significance  of 
the  objects  of  visual  attention  and  by  the  greater  variety  of 
movement  in  the  conduct  of  the  service  rendered  possible  by 
the  central  chancel  plan.  It  is  harder  for  any  man  to  conduct 
a  loose,  flippant,  or  formless  service  in  such  a  building. 

For  special  services  the  arrangement  is  far  superior,  freed 
of  the  awkward  and  immovable  pulpit  platform.  The  com- 
munion service  is  greatly  enhanced  in  dignity  by  the  phys- 

•216-  i 


The  Chancel 

ical  aids  and  evident  honor  of  such  a  setting.  The  com- 
munion table  and  all  that  it  represents  in  the  devotional  life 
of  the  Christian  Church  is  not  assigned  to  a  narrow  space 
and  passageway  below  the  pulpit  platform  where  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  conduct  the  service  without  the  sense  of  constriction 
or  awkwardness  or  the  feeling  of  its  being  after  all  an  inci- 
dental affair.  Special  public  exercises  involving  large  num- 
bers of  persons  are  more  impressively  managed.  Organ  reci- 
tals with  no  persons  at  all  visible  may  be  made  much  more 
effective  in  a  building  which  itself  conveys  the  Christian 
message  and  helps  to  supply  a  varied  yet  pertinent  content 
to  the  imaginative  experience  engendered  by  the  music. 
Such  a  church  building  is  far  superior  as  a  place  for  silent 
meditation  and  prayer,  as  it  is  open  during  all  the  days  of 
the  week. 

In  addition,  the  value  of  retaining  excellent  traditions  is 
worthy  of  consideration.  It  is  the  traditional  plan  of  the 
Christian  Church,  so  arranged  long  before  any  of  the  con- 
troversies, in  the  midst  of  which  the  arrangement  was 
changed,  were  developed.  One  may  be  eager  to  be  rid  of 
mediaeval  ideas  that  do  not  comport  with  modern  religion, 
and  zealous  to  go  forward  to  the  free  thought  of  the  future, 
and  yet  be  a  lover  of  excellent  and  beautiful  traditions 
established  by  the  fathers.  This  physical  setting  for  the 
service  of  Christian  worship  is  one  of  the  traditions  of  the 
early  church  worth  reviving.  As  in  the  case  of  the  artistic 
reasons,  the  religious  considerations  also  strongly  favor  the 
tendency  already  developing  in  this  direction. 

Practically,  also,  the  plan  has  many  advantages.  It  saves 
space,  easily  utilizing  the  corners  of  a  rectangular  building 
for  organ,  choir  room,  choir  benches,  and  minister's  study, 
or  vestry.  The  placement  of  the  choir  stalls  or  benches  on 
either  side  of  a  chancel  in  the  traditional  manner  enables  at 
once  a  more  beautiful  and  a  more  practical  management  of 
the  choir.  For  processional  hymns  the  singers  may  be  more 
prominent,  as  they  should  be;  and  when  not  standing  to 
sing,  they  are  desirably  less  conspicuous.  The  chancel  plan 
is  practically  more  manageable  for  wedding  ceremonies, 

•217  • 


Art  &  Religion 

funeral  services,  for  pageantry  of  any  kind,  and  for  special 
exercises  of  children. 

These  and  other  considerations  have  been  in  the  minds  of 
clergymen  and  architects  in  their  plans.  The  Rev.  Shepherd 
Knapp  of  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  has  written:  "From  a 
practical  point  of  view  the  chancel  arrangement  is  especially 
advantageous  for  special  services,  such  as  The  Communion, 
funerals,  weddings,  and  any  festival  service  when  proces- 
sions and  floral  decorations  come  into  use.  The  pulpit  in  the 
middle  is  much  in  the  way  for  such  occasions.  The  pulpit 
itself  insists  upon  being  the  focus  instead  of  some  special 
feature  of  interest.  In  effect  you  have  to  discard  all  that  lies 
behind  the  pulpit  in  weddings,  for  instance,  and  the  space 
in  front  is  usually  restricted.  The  chancel  arrangement  is 
beautiful  at  the  Communion  Service — the  table  in  the 
middle  on  the  higher  level  where  all  can  see  it,  the  minister 
and  deacons  occupying  the  chancel  seats." 

The  Rev.  Charles  E.  Park  of  the  First  Church  in  Boston 
speaks  of  the  architectural  propriety  of  the  plan:  "Ours  is  a 
pure  Gothic  church,  a  dim  and  very  ecclesiastical  interior, 
with  steep  trussed  roof  and  high  narrow  stained  glass  win- 
dows. To  my  mind,  such  an  interior  rather  predetermines  the 
chancel  arrangement.  Anything  else  would  be  architectur- 
ally, or  at  least  traditionally,  incongruous,  and  hence  it 
would  not  be  beautiful." 

Concerning  the  Central  Congregational  Church  of  Boston 
the  Rev.  Willard  L.  Spe'rry  suggests  its  symbolic  value:  "I 
like  the  general  arrangement.  The  value  of  the  whole  scheme 
seems  to  me  to  lie  in  the  opportunity  given  for  some  sjTnbolic 
suggestion  as  to  the  several  functions,  priestly  and  prophetic, 
in  the  conduct  of  public  worship.  To  have  a  little  area  in 
which  to  move,  gives  added  interest  to  the  general  fabric  of 
the  service,  and  seems  to  me  to  dignify  the  various  items  in 
the  service,  giving  each  a  certain  distinctiveness  of  its  own. 
We  have  a  big  communion  table  which  I  suppose  may  be 
called  an  'altar.'  At  the  celebration  of  the  Communion  it  is 
moved  out  from  the  wall  and  the  minister  sits  behind  it.  I 
suppose  that  is  unecclesiastical  and  would  shock  any  high 
churchman  but  in  the  Communion  it  preserves  something  of 

.218. 


Cram,  Goodhue  &  Ferguson,  Architects. 

SOUTH  CHURCH  •  NEW  YORK  CITY  •  REFORMED 

Impressive  stonework  in  piers,  vaulting,  and  altar.  The  light  comei 
through  the  lofty  clerestory  windows  above  low  side  aisles. 


The  Chancel 

the  dignity  of  the  old  Congregational  idea.  The  deacons  sit 
in  the  chancel  seats  on  either  side  of  the  table." 

In  a  letter  from  one  of  the  officials  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Englewood,  New  Jersey,  is  the  following  testi- 
mony: "About  two  years  ago  our  church  was  remodelled 
from  the  stereotyped  kind  of  pulpit  and  choir  arrangement 
common  in  many  Presbyterian  Churches  into  what  every 
member  of  our  Church  now  feels  is  a  satisfying  result.  There 
was  a  little  question  at  the  outset  as  to  the  propriety  of  the 
chancel  arrangement  in  a  Presbyterian  Church  but  Examples 
of  this  style  of  ecclesiastical  architecture  in  Congregational 
and  Presbyterian  churches  that  were  submitted  by  the  archi- 
tect soon  overcame  any  question.  The  result  has  more  than 
justified  the  prediction  and  our  entire  congregation  is  rejoic- 
ing in  the  very  beautiful  and  appropriate  result  accomplished. 
I  am  enclosing  under  separate  cover  photographs  showing 
two  views  of  the  chancel  and  a  view  of  the  nave.  If  you 
could  compare  these  with  a  photograph  of  the  church  in  its 
previous  arrangement,  you  would  see  what  a  great  improve- 
ment has  been  made  from  every  standpoint." 

There  yet  remain  certain  difficult  problems,  both  reli- 
gious and  artistic,  respecting  the  ideas  and  symbols  of  cen- 
tral prominence  in  the  future  church.  Artistically,  is  the 
communion  table  itself  a  sufficiently  interesting  object  of 
visual  attention?  Not,  I  think,  unless  the  setting  is  very 
successfully  handled.  This  has  been  the  chief  problem  of 
the  architects  who  have  used  this  plan.  I  have  nowhere  seen 
as  yet  a  wholly  successful  solution. 

In  the  building  designed  by  Cram,  Goodhue  &  Ferguson, 
for  the  South  Reformed  Church,  New  York,  now  the  Park 
Avenue  Presbyterian,  the  communion  table  itself,  made  of 
light-colored  stone,  and  faced  with  a  mosaic,  is  a  clear-cut 
and  strongly  attractive  center  of  interest,  and  is  particularly 
well  surrounded, — by  tessellated  flooring,  choir  benches,  the 
stone  arches  of  the  octagonal  chevet  and  exquisite  though 
restrained  clergy  stall  carvings.  As  a  whole,  this  chancel  is 
one  of  the  most  successful  solutions  of  the  problem  under 
discussion. 

In  other  instances,  as  at  the  First  and  Second  churches  of 

•221  • 


Art  &  Religion 


\ 


Boston  and  the  Church  of  the  Divine  Paternity  in  New 
York,  there  are  mosaic  compositions  in  the  wall  immediately 
behind  the  communion  table,  which  in  these  cases  is  placed 
against  the  wall. 

In  the  most  of  the  new  buildings  with  chancels  there  is  1 
not  much  difference  in  tone  or  light  value  between  the  table  [ 
and  its  background  of  clergy  stalls  or  minister's  chair  and  | 
deacons'  seats.  Some  have  used  a  strongly  colored  fabric  or  j 
dossal  for  the  space  behind  the  table,  as  at  The  House  of  i 
Hope,  Presbyterian,  St.  Paul.  Still  others  have  failed  to  j 
make  a  "high  light"  out  of  the  table  at  all  because  of  the  ] 
strong  character  of  the  chancel  windows  at  the  head  of  the  : 
apse  and  the  placement  of  the  table  in  such  a  way  as  to  fall  J 
within  the  shadow.  The  eye  is  thus  constantly  lifted  away  ^ 
from  the  center  of  liturgical  and  symbolical  interest  to  the  < 
place  which  should  be  the  secondary  point  of  light  in  the  j 
composition.  It  may  be  replied  that  the  painted  glass  figures  , 
of  the  window  ought  to  be  the  primary  "high  light."  There  i 
is  much  to  say  for  this.  I  strongly  incline,  however,  to  the  \ 
other  view. 

Exactly  this  problem  of  a  sufficiently  prominent  center  of  ] 
interest  led  to  the  development  of  the  ciborium,  or  pillared  \ 
canopy  over  the  altar  of  the  early  church.  Mr.  Walter  : 
Lowrie  has  clearly  explained  this:  "With  the  construction  \ 
of  great  basilicas  there  arose  an  architectural  necessity  for  ; 
this  or  for  some  similar  device.  The  altar,  no  matter  what  : 
might  be  the  size  of  the  church,  retained  always  the  same  ; 
very  limited  dimensions.  Of  itself,  therefore,  it  was  ill  fitted  j 
to  constitute  the  architectural  centre  of  a  huge  basilica;  it  J 
needed  then  as  it  has  always  needed,  some  architectural  j 
adjunct  which  might  vary  in  size  with  the  proportions  of  '■ 
the  building.  .  .  .  The  reredos  of  the  Gothic  church  was  ' 
another  solution  under  changed  conditions.  It  can  hardly  be  i 
accounted  so  successful  a  one."*  I 

The  problem  is  largely  solved  for  an  ordinary  building  ^ 
if  a  cross  is  placed  upon  the  table  or  candles  are  used.  A  ' 
white  cross  against  a  dark  background,  or  contrariwise,  at  i 
once  constitutes  a  compelling  point  of  visual  interest  and  ^ 

*  Lowrie,  "Monuments  of  the  Early  Church,"  p.   123.  ^ 

.  000  .  i 


The  Chancel 

becomes  the  artistic  as  well  as  the  symbolic  center  of  the 
whole  structural  composition.  This  is  the  reason  for  its 
historical  development  and  for  its  continued  usage  in  all 
the  old  churches  and  this  is  the  reason  for  its  recent  revival 
by  some  of  the  free  churches. 

One  of  the  most  simple  and  beautiful  altars  I  have  seen 
is  that  of  the  Second  Parish  Church  of  Newton,  Massachu- 
setts, an  orthodox  Congregational  Church.  In  this  church 
there  is  no  question  as  to  where  the  look  of  the  eye  will 
center.  There  is  very  little  except  sheer  prejudice  in  the  way 
of  a  more  widespread  adoption  of  this  solution.  Many  of 
the  Reformed  churches,  although  meanwhile  developing  a 
thoroughly  modern  theology,  have  never  abandoned  the 
traditional  symbol  of  Christianity. 

The  fact  that  the  churches  most  notable  in  its  revival  are 
those  of  liberal  thought  is  evidence  of  their  view  that  it  is 
not  incompatible  with  a  modern  theology.  In  discussing  the 
question  with  a  friend  of  mine  who  is  a  man  of  international 
repute,  an  orthodox  minister,  and  one  of  the  most  typical 
Puritans  of  the  present  day,  I  was  surprised  to  hear  his  warm 
commendation  of  this  procedure.  He  feels  it  to  be  a  great 
assistance  to  reverence  and  dignity  much  needed  in  these 
days,  to  have  a  definite  altar  in  a  Christian  church. 

There  is  no  essential  reason  against  the  placing  of  a 
wooden  cross  in  the  most  prominent  place  of  the  church 
building,  unless  that  reason  applies  equally  against  placing 
the  idea  of  the  cross  in  a  prominent  place  in  theology  or 
hymnology,  or  in  decorating  other  parts  of  the  building  with 
many  crosses  of  wood  or  of  glass.  If  we  are  to  use  symbolism 
at  all,  it  is  better  to  do  it  heartily.  Assigning  the  cross  to 
inconspicuous  decorative  positions  looks  as  though  we  were 
half  ashamed  of  it. 

There  is  no  great  danger  of  mistaking  symbols  for  realities 
now.  No  one  regards  Dante's  great  symbolic  portrayals  as 
facts.  Long  ago  the  great  Protestant  painter,  Albert  Diirer, 
said,  "A  Christian  would  no  more  be  led  to  superstition  by  a 
picture  or  an  effigy  than  an  honest  man  to  commit  murder 
because  he  carries  a  weapon  by  his  side."* 

*  Quoted  from  Crouch,  "Puritanism  in  Art,"  p.  310. 

.223. 


Art  ^  Religion 

If  the  new  religion  is  to  be  a  composite  and  the  future 
church  a  community  church  in  the  most  inclusive  sense,  it 
would  be  an  impropriety  to  make  any  such  use  of  the  cross. 
If  it  is  to  be  definitely  Christian,  there  are  many  reasons  for 
the  central  prominence  of  the  cross,  even  to  the  liberal 
thought  which  does  not  accept  traditional  views  of  atone- 
ment. It  is  a  symbol  of  uttermost  love,  a  symbol  of  personal 
salvation,  an  ever  present  call  for  personal  acceptance  of  the 
law  of  love  even  to  the  extent  of  self-sacrifice. 

It  is  possible,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  next  generation 
will  be  moved  by  a  strong  sense  of  the  value  of  the  com- 
munion service  because  of  its  suggestion  of  brotherhood. 
The  service  will  be  for  many  not  so  much  a  memorial  of  the 
sacrifice  which  historically  was  the  tragic  end  of  a  beautiful 
brotherhood,  as  a  memorial  of  that  brotherhood  in  its  vital- 
ity and  hope.  It  will  commemorate  for  them  the  fellowship 
of  a  band  of  young  men  under  the  spirit  of  an  incomparable 
leader,  eager  and  determined  to  reform  the  whole  structure 
of  the  national  faith  of  his  people,  and  set  going  new  and 
liberating  principles  in  their  moral  life. 

I  hope  to  live  long  enough  to  see  some  church  of  noble  and 
brotherly  people  build  a  great  building  for  the  worship  of 
their  community  in  which  a  physically  large  table  of  com- 
munion set  in  an  ample  space  may  be  the  center  of  the  public 
exercises  which  most  movingly  celebrate  and  reenkindle  the 
ideals  of  brotherhood. 

The  use  of  candle  light  is  one  of  the  historic  solutions  of 
the  problem  of  artistic  "high  light"  for  an  interior  composi- 
tion. Some  of  the  Dutch  churches  which  do  not  use  a  cross 
upon  the  altar,  place  candles  there.  Psychologically,  there 
is  much  to  say  for  it.  The  eye,  however  much  it  may  wander 
to  other  beauties  in  the  building  or  distract  the  mind  with 
other  thoughts,  is  always  brought  back  to  the  strongest  light. 
The  effect  speedily  becomes  more  than  physical  and  tends  to 
empty  the  mind  and  make  it  ready  for  the  message  of  the 
service  or  of  the  preacher. 

This  is  no  more  than  the  logic  of  the  aesthetic  experience 
in  general.  It  is  the  reason  why  you  go  out  of  doors  for  a 
long  walk  to  think  over  an  important  matter,  despite  the 

•224- 


S     ^^ 


2  « 


*5    53) 


The  Chancel 

fact  that  you  may  be  unable  to  proceed  with  the  thinking 
because  of  the  obtrusion  of  trees  or  sky  or  water,  the  physical 
charm  which  these  exert  and  the  empty-headedness  which 
at  lirst  they  seem  to  induce.  But  that  empty-headedness  is 
the  first  thing  you  need,  the  preliminary  condition  to  the 
clear-headedness  you  came  for.  Just  so,  the  physical  beauties 
of  the  house  of  worship  should  tend  to  produce  this  desirable 
condition  of  readiness  for  the  positive  message  of  the  hour. 

Some  of  the  churches  which  have  moved  the  pulpit  from 
the  central  position  have  made  an  ineffective  compromise. 
They  have  moved  it  and  not  moved  it,  building  a  prominent 
pulpit  from  which  the  sermon  is  delivered,  retaining  a  less 
prominent  desk  in  the  middle  of  the  platform.  Such  is  the 
plan  in  the  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church  of  Chicago.  The 
pulpit  proper  is  very  beautiful  and  placed  in  a  most  com- 
manding position  on  the  great  pier  of  the  crossing,  but  the 
point  of  the  central  visual  interest  is  weakly  handled.  It  is 
an  uninteresting  mass  of  chairs,  tables,  and  choir  screening. 
There  is  nothing  religiously  appropriate  in  the  prominence 
of  a  choir  collected  in  a  gallery  behind  the  preacher.  In  this 
building  especially,  the  long  lines  of  a  majestic  nave  strongly 
lead  the  attention  toward  the  focal  point,  but  when  it  gets 
there,  there  is  nothing  there.  The  whole  effect  is  as  if  you 
were  to  look  upon  the  Sistine  Madonna  after  someone  had 
pasted  blank  paper  over  the  face  of  the  Virgin. 

Shall  the  average  church,  then,  build  with  a  chancel  or 
not'?  It  depends  upon  what  kind  of  exercise  is  to  be  con- 
ducted in  it,  and  partly  upon  what  the  people  go  there  for. 
If  the  building  is  to  be  merely  an  auditorium,  that  is,  a  place 
to  hear  in,  then  it  makes  little  difference.  But  more  and  more, 
modern  churches  are  not  being  considered  as  meetinghouses 
or  auditoriums. 

When  the  church  spends  its  money  to  make  a  more  beau- 
tiful structure,  it  does  not  do  so  in  order  to  improve  it  as  a 
place  to  hear  in  but  as  a  place  to  look  in.  But  so  soon  as  you 
desire  to  make  a  successful  appeal  to  the  eye,  you  must  fol- 
low the  canons  of  looking  and  not  those  of  hearing. 

If  the  dependence  of  future  church  worship  is  to  be  chiefly 
the  sermon,  the  central  pulpit  is  sufficient.  But  if  there  is  to 

•227  • 


Art  &  Religion 

be  developed  in  any  kind  of  genuine  sense  an  art  of  worship, 
then  there  is  demanded  a  more  manageable  space  and  a  more 
symbolic  differentiation  of  parts.  The  possibilities  of  liturgi- 
cal and  ceremonial  improvements  are  greatly  obstructed  by  '; 
high  platform  and  central  pulpit;  and  this  entirely  apart | 
from  any  question  of  reviving  any  ancient  ritual.  The  tradi-  < 
tional  chancel  plan  is  just  as  desirable  from  the  point  of  j 
view  of  the  invention  of  new  kinds  of  exercises.  It  is  adapt-  j 
able  in  almost  unlimited  ways.  There  are  no  sound  objections  | 
against  it.  It  dignifies  a  very  small  chapel :  it  is  necessary  to  a  | 
great    cathedral-like    church.    It    is    beautiful,    practical,'! 
churchly,  and  positively  suggestive  to  the  religious  imagina-ji 
tion. 


228.  \ 

I 


Chapter  XXII :  Practicable  Matters 

IT  is  always  advisable  for  persons  who  wish  to  build 
beautifully  to  be  sure  that  they  are  also  building  prac- 
tically. The  parish  life  of  most  modern  churches  in- 
cludes a  greater  variety  of  other  concerns  than  those  of  wor- 
ship. These  must  not  be  forgotten.  And,  also,  any  movement 
to  improve  the  beauty  of  church  buildings  in  general  should 
be  concerned  for  the  small  parish  as  well  as  for  the  larger. 
The  suggestions  must  be  practicable  on  a  small  scale. 

First  of  all,  educational  facilities  are  required.  It  is  no 
longer  considered  important  for  this  purpose  that  there  be 
an  assembly  hall.  The  younger  scholars  need  separate  de- 
partmental rooms,  the  older  should  meet  for  assembly  in  the 
main  church.  But  all  the  junior,  intermediate,  and  adult 
classes  should  be  provided  with  separate  classrooms.  These 
rooms  may  be  also  utilized  as  clubrooms.  The  Church 
School  building  should  have  very  much  the  character  of  the 
regular  public  school  building,  on  a  smaller  scale.  Some  of 
the  recent  church  plants  with  an  elaborate  provision  for  the 
Church  School  have  more  halls  and  large  rooms  than  they 
need  and  not  enough  small  classrooms  and  clubrooms. 

The  social  life  of  the  modern  parish  requires  at  least  one 
large  space  for  church  suppers  and  other  large  gatherings. 
It  ought  also  to  have,  wherever  possible,  smaller  rooms  that 
are  particularly  attractive  in  their  furnishings,  one  or  more 
clublike  rooms  for  men,  and  one  or  more  pleasant  parlors 
for  women.  If  there  is  a  gymnasium,  the  same  space  may  be 
arranged  for  dramatic  presentations  such  as  are  not  suitable 
for  the  main  church. 

The  placement  of  the  building,  large  or  small,  deserves 
the  greatest  consideration.  If  possible,  the  floor  of  the  main 
church  should  not  be  too  far  above  the  ground.  An  easy  and 
inviting  entrance  is  very  difficult  when  too  many  stair  steps 
are  necessary.  Whether  the  church  be  in  the  city  or  in  the 

•229. 


Art  &  Religion 

country,  passers-by  should  be  able  at  times  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  lighted  interior,  and  to  hear  the  sounds  of  the  organ. 
All  the  educational  and  social  rooms  should  be  placed  above 
the  ground  if  possible. 

The  smaller  church  and  its  equipment  needs  to  be  given 
more  attention  on  the  part  of  architects.  There  is  a  too 
common  feeling  that  only  the  large  and  rich  church  can  have 
a  beautiful  building  and  adequate  parish  equipment.  It  is 
true  that  most  of  the  significant  illustrations  of  current 
usages  as  to  architectural  style  relate  to  large  and  costly 
buildings.  Whatever  is  done  in  the  large,  however,  sooner  or 
later  affects  the  style  and  manner  of  the  small.  Precisely  the 
same  canons  of  good  artistry  apply  to  the  most  modest 
buildings. 

It  is  no  more  costly  to  build  a  very  small  church  beauti- 
fully than  it  is  to  build  an  ugly  one.  On  the  contrary,  my 
own  observation  leads  me  to  think  that  much  of  the  unneces- 
sary expense  in  many  small  churches  has  detracted  from  the 
beauty  of  the  buildings  rather  than  added  to  them.  Far  too 
many  small  churches  are  not  sufficiently  plain,  direct,  and 
simple.  Success  in  this  matter  is  not  a  question  of  materials 
nor  of  size  but  of  taste  and  artistry. 

Yet  there  are  especial  problems  in  the  small  building.  It 
is  difficult  to  design  a  small  church  so  that  it  will  intimate 
big  ideas.  It  is  hard  to  secure  sufficient  dignity  in  a  structure 
that  does  not  have  an  amplitude  of  scale,  but  it  can  be  done. 
Mr.  Cram's  little  chapel  at  Arlington  and  Mr.  Goodhue's 
little  side  chapel  at  St.  Bartholomew's  in  New  York  are 
scarce  twenty  feet  wide,  but  they  are  more  dignified  and  im- 
pressive than  some  of  the  biggest  churches  in  the  country. 
They  prove  conclusively  that  the  small  building  need  not 
lack  dignity.  By  the  right  proportions  and  something  to  give 
the  interior  a  religious  tone,  a  very  small  church  may  be  just 
as  inducive  to  reverence  as  a  large  one.  On  the  whole,  no 
single  feature  of  the  plan  besides  these  matters  of  proportion 
and  tone  will  so  help  the  small  building  in  dignity  as  a 
chancel.  The  simple  arrangement  of  placing  the  communion 
table  centrally  in  the  interior  composition  at  once  specifies 
the  religious  character  of  the  building.  Immediately  there  is 

•230. 


Ralph  Adams  Cram,  Architect. 


ST.  ANNE  S  CHAPEL  •  ARLINGTON   HEIGHTS  •   MASSACHUSETTS 

Unplastered  walls  are  treated  with  whitewash  directly  upon  the 

stones.  The  tone  is  at  once  barren  and  cheerful,  a  festive 

note  being  added  by  the  bent-iron  candelabra. 


Practicable  Matters 

conveyed  a  sense  of  dignity  far  superior  to  that  of  any 
structure  of  the  purely  auditorium  type. 

Some  of  the  denominational  church  building  societies  are 
still  permitting  extremely  unfortunate  practices  in  the  erec- 
tion of  small  church  buildings.  Others  have  made  great 
advances  and  are  prepared  to  offer  detailed  designs  for  small 
churches  that  are  at  once  practicable  and  beautiful.  The 
Bureau  of  Architecture  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
has  published  some  highly  creditable  plans  and  designs.  It  is 
no  longer  necessary  for  the  small  church  to  engage  an  expen- 
sive architect.  It  is  usually  desirable  to  avoid  an  inexpensive 
one. 

Another  very  practical  question  in  church  building  is  that 
of  partial  construction.  Many  church  committees  are  en- 
amored of  the  so-called  unit  system,  and  proceed  to  erect  a 
parish  house  long  before  they  are  prepared  to  build  the 
church.  There  are  many  cases  in  which  this  is  desirable.  In 
many  others  it  is  gravely  unfortunate.  Particularly  is  this 
true  now  that  the  Church  School  assembly  hall  is  not  so 
desirable  as  it  used  to  be  considered.  What  is  the  advantage 
in  erecting  a  Church  School  house  with  a  large  assembly  hall 
and  having  an  ugly  building  until  the  main  church  is  built, 
and  thereafter  possessing  a  useless  assembly  hall*? 

It  is  especially  unfortunate  if  the  parish  house  unit  is 
built  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  later  located  on  the  flank  of  the 
main  church  building,  arranged  to  be  an  addition  to  the 
seating  capacity  of  the  church.  This  very  procedure  is  one 
of  the  most  common  and  certainly  the  worst  possible  plan. 
The  final  result  in  such  a  church  is  an  ugly  interior,  whether 
the  doors  of  the  Church  School  hall  be  open  or  closed.  And 
with  the  growing  tendency  for  the  conduct  of  the  Church 
School  worship  in  the  main  church  the  flanking  hall  is  more 
or  less  unnecessary  in  any  case. 

It  is  far  better  to  build  the  principal  structure  first.  The 
only  objection  to  this  is  on  the  part  of  those  who  wish  to  wait 
until  they  can  afford  to  build  the  church  more  elaborately 
and  beautifully.  The  only  reply  is  that  it  need  not  be  more 
costly  than  the  other  plan.  To  begin  with,  a  building  can  be 
given  churchly  proportions  and  erected  with  cheap  materials. 

•233- 


Art  &  Religion 

Later  it  can  be  beautified  by  rich  furniture,  by  decorative 
murals  or  windows,  by  the  addition  of  a  tower  or  spire,  by 
covering  the  outside  with  plaster  or  better  faced  brick. 
Meanwhile,  the  outlines  of  the  structure  tell  their  own  story 
and  make  a  churchly  appeal  in  a  way  that  is  impossible  for 
a  nondescript-looking  building  at  the  back  of  a  lot. 

One  of  the  most  simple  plans  for  such  a  structure  is  that 
of  a  plain  rectangle  about  twice  as  long  as  broad.  The  social 
room  may  be  in  the  basement.  At  the  front  of  the  church  may 
be  a  chancel  with  two  small  rooms  in  the  two  corners,  one 
for  the  minister's  study  or  Church  School  classroom,  the 
other  for  stair  hall  and  choir.  At  the  other  end  of  the  build- 
ing may  be  two  crosswise  rooms  one  above  the  other,  for 
primary  scholars  and  for  classroom  space,  or  for  small  meet- 
ings. When  the  time  for  improvement  comes,  the  lower  of 
these  rooms  becomes  a  foyer,  yielding  also  some  space  for 
more  pews.  The  upper  room  becomes  the  gallery  of  the 
church.  Further  Church  School  classrooms  and  social  rooms 
will  be  built  as  an  additional  parish  house  equipment.  Some 
such  procedure  as  this  is  scarcely  more  expensive  and  far 
superior,  artistically,  to  the  plan  of  erecting  a  parish  house 
first.  It  provides  very  creditably  for  the  Church  School, 
while  the  public  worship  of  the  church  is  far  better  encour- 
aged than  when  conducted  in  a  temporary  and  ill-propor- 
tioned hall. 

More  important  than  anything  else  suggested  in  this  chap- 
ter is  the  practicable  character  of  structural  beauty.  No 
building  can  be  artistically  satisfactory  if  a  preconceived 
design  or  style  is  foisted  upon  the  structure  to  the  detriment 
of  its  practicable  character.  The  sense  of  the  appropriateness 
of  the  structure  with  respect  to  its  materials,  location,  and 
uses  is  essential  to  the  aesthetic  enjoyment  of  it.  The  artistic 
forms,  both  structural  and  decorative,  must  be  fashioned,  at 
least  in  part,  out  of  the  utilitarian  demands  of  the  situation. 
The  use  of  concrete  developed  in  modern  times,  and  still 
more  the  use  of  steel,  adds  to  the  structural  methods  of 
modern  buildings.  As  time  goes  on,  there  will  be  increasing 
skill  in  the  mastery  of  the  aesthetic  possibilities  of  these 
materials. 

•234- 


Practicable  Matters 

To  recognize  the  aesthetic  worth  of  that  which  is  also 
practicable  is  not  to  admit  that  every  practicable  building 
is  beautiful.  The  elements  of  scale,  proportion,  decorative 
design,  and  other  factors  must  constantly  be  remembered, 
particularly  in  the  attempt  to  build  beautiful  churches  for 
the  worship  of  God,  Nevertheless,  these  elements  may  be  in 
every  other  way  satisfactory  without  yielding  the  shy  secret 
of  beauty,  unless  also  the  structure  be  evidently  recognized 
as  practicable. 


235 


Chapter  XXIII :  Religious  Ideas  for  the  Architect 

ON  the  whole,  the  architects  are  less  to  blame  than 
the  churches  for  failing  to  make  of  church  buildings 
successful  symbols  of  religion.  They  have  been 
quite  as  zealous  as  the  churches  in  the  reestablishment  of  a 
nobler  conception  of  the  church  building.  In  a  recent  letter, 
Mr.  William  Orr  Ludlow  has  discussed  this  point.  "There 
has  been  a  very  distinct  tendency  on  the  part  of  some  of  the 
Protestant  denominations  to  consider  the  church  building 
an  auditorium  and  to  make  comfort,  acoustical  qualities  and 
clever  arrangement  of  plan  the  criterion  of  excellence.  These 
things  are  all  essential  but  after  all  are  merely  the  good 
body  and  unless  the  spirit  is  conserved,  the  best  part  is 
wanting. 

"A  building  is  an  expression  of  purpose  and  the  church 
building  is  something  more  than  a  comfortable  and  conven- 
ient place  for  the  worship  of  God.  It  may  be  unfashionable 
in  these  days  to  speak  of  the  'House  of  God,'  but  that  very 
fact  indicates  the  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  real  purpose 
and  real  ownership  of  the  building. 

"If  then  it  really  is  God's  House  and  not  merely  a  conven- 
ient place  in  which  to  worship  Him,  any  true  architectural 
expression  must  recognize  the  qualities  and  character  of  the 
real  owner.  If  someone  builds  a  house  for  me  and  builds  it 
without  recognizing  anything  of  my  character  and  tastes,  to 
say  the  least,  he  is  an  unfaithful  steward  of  my  funds.  To 
build  the  House  of  God  and  make  beauty,  dignity  and  spirit- 
uality, as  expressed  in  architecture,  entirely  secondary  to 
good  heating  and  acoustics  is  to  build  God's  House  without 
God." 

The  first  religious  idea,  therefore,  for  the  architect  to 
bear  in  mind,  in  planning  his  church,  is  that  it  is  to  be  a 
House  of  God.  The  building  as  viewed  from  without  or  from 
within  should  be  definitely  recognizable  as  standing  for 

.236. 


K.  "SJ    3J 


H        ~- 


Religious  Ideas  for  the  Architect 

religion,  an  ever  present  reminder  of  God.  There  should 
never  be  any  question  as  to  whether  it  might  possibly  be  a 
post  office  or  any  other  secular  structure.  Forms,  styles,  pro- 
portions which  have  been  commonly  in  use  amongst  the 
people  for  other  public  purposes,  though  perhaps  in  them- 
selves appropriate,  should  not  be  used  for  a  church. 

For  the  clear  representation  of  religion,  probably  no 
structural  feature  is  so  important  in  the  exterior  aspect  of 
the  church  as  a  tower  or  spire.  Some  churches  in  the  Gothic 
style  have  been  so  designed  as  to  produce  the  aspiring  effect 
without  a  tower.  By  the  lofty  and  narrow  proportions  of  the 
facade,  and  the  prominence  of  tall,  pointed  windows,  they 
give  an  impression  of  lift  and  upward  reach.  But  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  do  and  not  often  successful.  The  typical  church 
should  have  a  spire  or  tower. 

Just  what  interior  elements  can  be  utilized  to  convey  the 
feeling  of  religion  is  for  each  artist  to  decide  for  himself.  On 
the  whole,  probably  nothing  is  so  tangibly  effective  at  this 
point  as  the  planning  of  some  kind  of  chancel,  as  already 
suggested.  But  the  desire  and  the  spirit  of  the  builder  is 
more  important  than  the  forms  he  chooses  for  his  expres- 
sion. It  is  in  the  nature  of  the  case  difficult  for  an  ungodly 
man  to  build  a  House  of  God.  Whatever  the  style  the  first 
demand  of  the  building  is  that  it  somehow  convey  a  sense 
of  God.  In  such  a  church,  sometimes  at  least,  men  who  have 
come  to  admire  will  remain  to  pray. 

In  this  connection  it  is  worth  suggesting  that  the  concep- 
tion of  a  church  building  as  a  House  of  God  relates  itself 
to  two  important  religious  faiths,  one  ancient  and  one 
modern.  The  Eastern  Church  has  always  emphasized  the 
Christian  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation.  Present-day  religious 
faith  emphasizes  the  conception  of  the  Immanence  of  God. 
These  are  only  different  forms  for  solving  the  same  religious 
problems.  The  architect  should  understand  something  of  the 
present  vitality  of  this  present  thought  of  the  immanence  of 
God,  in  its  two  most  important  aspects.  First,  it  means  that 
present  religion  conceives  of  God  as  at  work  creating  and 
recreating  the  world,  especially  as  actually  an  energy  and 
influence  in  the  spirits  of  men.  The  second  aspect  is  the 


Art  &  Religion  ■ 

thought  of  God  as  ever  revealing  the  truth.  A  House  of  God  \ 
should  in  some  sense  be  a  record  of  the  historic  triumphs  ] 
of  religion,  a  statement  of  old  faiths  which  are  more  and  ] 
more  confidently  held  to  be  true,  together  with  a  genuine  , 
expectancy  of  larger  light  and  nobler  success  yet  to  come.       : 

A  church  should  have  Man  in  it  as  well  as  God  in  it.  It  ■ 
should  be  a  strong  and  manly  structure — honest,  depend-  : 
able,  vigorous  in  all  its  structural  character.  It  should  not  be  i 
overly  decorated  nor  too  delicate.  If  possible,  the  structural  i 
principle  of  the  building  should  be  clear  and  evident,  rather  j 
than  obscured  or  covered  up.  It  is,  for  instance,  to  me  a  very  < 
great  regret  that  the  heavy  masonry  arch  over  the  crossing  ' 
in  the  Cathedral  of  St.  John  the  Divine,  New  York,  cannot  | 
be  seen.  It  has  been  covered  with  lesser  slabs  and  stones.  In  \ 
an  age  which  has  developed  so  little  of  such  structural  sta-  \ 
bility,  I  would  like  to  see  the  very  stones  that  hold  the  great  \ 
building  up.  Let  the  architect  reveal  the  structure  wherever  ■ 
it  is  possible.  '■ 

In  its  symbolism,  also,  it  should  have  something  to  glorify  ! 
the  achievements  of  man  and  express  confidence  and  hope  ] 
in  the  development  of  man.  Without  worshiping  the  saints,  ] 
we  can  enlarge  and  brighten  life  by  vivid  recollections  of  j 
the  leaders  of  the  human  race.  It  is  not  possible  or  desirable  ^ 
to  make  of  any  church  a  Pantheon  or  a  Hall  of  Fame.  It  is  i 
possible  to  put  in  every  church  something  to  connect  the  ' 
religious  experience  of  the  present  with  the  spiritual  achieve-  \ 
ments  of  the  great  and  good  in  the  history  of  the  human  ' 
conquests  of  mind  and  heart.  j 

Tablets,  windows,  portraits,  statues,  may  be  utilized,  i 
many  or  few,  according  to  the  scale  of  the  building  and  the 
interests  of  the  community,  to  memorialize  those  spiritual 
achievements  considered  to  be  especially  inspiring  by  the 
particular  church.  The  brilliant  new  reredos  of  St.  Thomas's 
Church,  New  York,  contains  figures  of  the  early  political 
heroes  of  American  life  as  well  as  saints  of  the  church.  This 
is  one  definite  way  of  putting  Man  into  the  church.  i 

It  is  perhaps  more  diflficult  to  express  the  other  great  | 
present  conception  of  man,  the  ideal  of  brotherhood.  But  it  i 
must  be  included  in  some  way.  If  the  theological  analogy  of  \ 

•240- 


I 


Religious  Ideas  for  the  Architect 

God  as  a  father  means  anything  practical,  it  means  that  all 
human  beings  are  in  some  sense  children  of  God,  and  should 
learn  to  practice  the  brotherly  life.  Everything  autocratic 
must  come  out  of  the  church.  It  is  for  the  artist  to  put  his 
imagination  at  work  to  design  something  expressive  of  this 
vigorous,  modern  conception  of  the  human  person. 

As  the  Eastern  Church  has  stood  for  the  Incarnation,  the 
Western  Church  has  stood  for  Salvation.  The  church  must 
still  be  a  place  of  refuge,  forgiveness,  cleansing,  healing,  and 
joy.  It  must  ever  be  a  place  where  there  is  experienced  the 
joy  ot  release  from  failure,  shame,  injury,  and  trouble  of 
every  sort,  and  the  joy  of  the  abundant  and  creative  life. 

In  seeking  to  symbolize  these  things  the  architect  needs  to 
remember  some  important  changes  in  theology.  If  it  is  still 
true  that  the  cross  is  the  great  symbol  of  salvation,  it  is  also 
true  that  its  interpretation  is  very  different  from  that  of 
mediaeval  or  Reformation  faith.  The  cross  is  still  a  symbol 
of  the  uttermost  character  of  the  Divine  Love,  which  may 
become  the  inspiration  and  the  power  of  its  human  imita- 
tion. It  is  no  longer  a  symbol  of  something  accomplished  for 
the  believer  entirely  outside  himself,  to  be  appropriated  by 
a  formal  act  of  faith:  but  rather  of  that  which  must  be 
accomplished  inside  himself  and  appropriated  by  imitation 
in  the  actual  life  of  the  practical  world.  Nowadays  it  is  seen 
that  men  are  saved  according  as  they  become  saviors. 

Also  the  life  of  the  world  and  the  character  of  human 
nature  is  not  now  conceived  as  formerly.  We  are  not  saved 
by  withdrawal  from  the  world,  but  by  living  the  divine  life 
in  it.  We  are  not  saved  in  spite  of  the  flesh,  but  by  under- 
standing and  developing  the  gifts  of  the  bodily  powers. 
Salvation,  in  other  words,  is  positive  and  not  negative.  It  is 
the  developing  transfonnation  of  human  nature.  It  is  the 
living  of  an  abundant  life.  It  is  living  the  productive  and 
creative  life,  and  receiving  the  immediate  rewards  of  such  a 
life.  It  is  a  life  freed  from  sin  and  failure  by  the  positive 
spirit  of  Christ-like  good  will. 

I  do  not  just  now  see  how  the  architect  can  say  these 
things  in  his  building.  I  do  believe  that  as  we  acquire  more 
and  more  mastery  of  our  new  view  of  life  and  more  and  more 

.241. 


Art  &  Religion  \ 

facility  of  expression  there  will  be  discovered  appropriate  \ 
forms  for  celebrating  the  beauty  of  nature  and  of  human  \ 
nature,  for  assuring  people  of  the  goodness  of  life  and  of  ' 
God,  and  for  assisting  the  process  of  their  own  participation  i 
in  this  life.  These  new  forms  will  not  exclude  some  of  the  ] 
old  forms.  Perhaps  they  may  be  only  modified  manners  of  : 
setting  forth  the  old  solution.  It  is  for  clergyman  and  artist  | 
alike  to  consider  and  develop  how  the  church  building  may  \ 
best  serve  to  help  people  to  the  Joy  of  Salvation.  | 

These  things  we  have  been  discussing  may  be  perhaps  ! 
more  clearly  specified  to  the  artist  as  Truth,  Goodness,  and  ; 
Beauty.  Modern  religion  desires  to  make  earnest  with  all  ' 
these  three.  It  desires  to  have  ever  fresh  discovery,  practice,  ' 
and  enjoyment  of  all  these  three.  It  desires  constantly  to  1 
minister  these  to  all  men.  Let  the  architect  do  his  best  to  ! 
build  a  House  of  God  which  men  will  feel  to  be  open  to  All  ' 
the  Truth,  where  men  may  be  led  to  live  according  to  the  , 
Highest  and  most  Brotherly  Goodness,  and  enabled  to  enjoy  i 
the  Beauty  of  the  Whole  of  Life,  and  he  will  have  been  , 
most  highly  successful.  j 


242 


Chapter  XXIV :  The  Future  Church 

THE  Reformation  age  has  been  marked,  amongst 
other  things,  by  the  extensive  delimitation  of  the 
functions  of  the  church  and  widespread  specializa- 
tion of  social  agencies.  There  was  a  day  when  the  church 
school  was  the  only  school.  There  was  a  day  when  the  church 
charity  was  the  only  organized  charity.  There  was  a  day 
when  the  only  drama  was  the  church  drama,  when  the  only 
public  art  museum  was  the  church,  when  the  noblest  musical 
productions  were  those  of  the  church.  The  Reformation  age 
has  witnessed  the  severance  of  the  arts  as  well  as  many  com- 
munity services  from  the  ecclesiastical  institution. 

The  new  age  will  be  characterized  by  new  integrations. 
The  discursive  temper  of  the  old  age  will  be  greatly  modified 
by  new  popularities  and  new  commonalities.  The  analytical 
temper  of  today  will  give  place  to  the  synthetic  efforts  of 
tomorrow.  It  is  not  necessary,  economical,  or  efficient  to 
develop  too  many  institutions  for  the  functioning  of  life. 
Moreover,  and  vastly  more  important,  it  is  not  good  psy- 
chology to  divide  up  the  human  person  and  his  interests  into 
too  many  categorical  expressions. 

I  like  to  think  that  it  may  be  possible  to  reunite  in  the 
church  some  of  its  dissevered  members,  especially  in  the 
region  of  the  arts.  I  am  definitely  hopeful  that  in  some  great 
community  there  can  be  formed  a  company  of  men,  some  of 
them  artists,  some  of  them  sociologists,  some  of  them  labor- 
ites,  some  of  them  patrons  of  the  arts,  some  of  them  priests, 
and  most  of  them  plain  people,  who  will  unite  to  establish 
a  great  Community  Church — a  Church  that  will  in  itself  be 
a  great  museum  of  art,  a  great  music  hall,  a  great  scene  and 
theater  for  the  pageantry  of  new  representations  of  life,  a 
great  school  of  morals,  a  great  forum  of  new  thought,  a  great 
expression  of  brotherhood,  a  great  temple  of  worship. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  any  great  variety  of  community 

•243- 


Art  &  Religion 

organizations  ought  to  be  reunited  in  the  church.  Yet  organ- 
ized religion  must  ever  be  one  of  the  chief  centers  of  thought, 
must  ever  perform  certain  vital  community  services,  and 
constitutes  the  only  opportunity  for  the  joint  expression  of 
all  the  arts.  There  are  some  who  would  set  too  narrow  limits 
to  the  functioning  of  the  ecclesiastical  institution.  Perhaps 
there  are  many  who  would  fear  the  compressing  effect  of 
anything  placed  under  the  governance  of  religion.  But  the 
true  religious  life^  is  the  all-comprehending  life.  True  reli- 
gion never  compresses  but  rather  enlarges  everything  it 
touches.  It  gathers  to  itself  and  fuses  in  the  fires  of  its  own  j 
supreme  experience  all  discoveries,  all  purposes,  all  appre- 
hensions, and  then  upon  all  quests  and  aims  and  joys  it 
throws  the  illumination  of  its  own  great  light. 

This  play  and  interplay  between  historic  religion  and 
fresh,  natural,  human  experience,  just  intimated,  is  precisely 
the  thing  that  will  create  the  church  of  the  new  age  and 
describe  its  character.  The  future  religion  will  not  be  a 
vague  eclecticism.  It  will  be  specific,  historic  Christianity. 
But  it  will  be  a  Christianity  ever  freshly  tested  and  ever 
newly  enriched  by  a  conscious  relation  to  the  categories  of 
truth,  goodness,  and  beauty. 

A  pagan  standard  as  a  test  of  revealed  religion?  Partly, 
yet  the  only  standard  comportable  with  a  spiritual  concep- 
tion of  revelation.  We  are  at  last  face  to  face  with  a  revived 
demand  and  possibly  with  a  revived  opportunity  to  do  what 
they  did  in  the  earliest  days  of  the  Christian  faith  and  to  do 
it  better. 

Into  the  pagan  world  went  forth  the  gospel  of  the  Hebrew 
prophet  and  Christ.  But  the  forms  through  which  the  gospel 
was  passed  on  to  the  later  generations  were  the  forms  of 
Greek  thought  and  Roman  polity.  Historic  Christianity  was 
fashioned  by  the  mergence  of  Hebraic  and  pagan  elements. 
Retaining  great  moral  and  spiritual  ideals  from  their  own 
religious  heritage,  the  early  Jewish  Christians  left  off  their 
allegiance  to  the  Jewish  Law.  But  their  disciples  were  not 
supplied  with  an  adequate  intellectual  furniture  nor  an 
adequate  practical  organization  until  they  met  with  the 
pagan  world.   Christian  theology  very  early  began  to  be 

.244. 


The  Future  Church 

formed  to  the  moulds  of  Greek  thought,  and  almost  as  early 
Christian  polity  was  cast  into  the  mould  of  the  Roman 
imperial  administration. 

A  similar  mergence  is  now  required.  It  is  for  Catholics  and 
also  for  Protestants  to  abandon  their  legalistic  character. 
Both  are  in  bondage  to  the  Law,  the  one  to  the  legalistic  con- 
ception of  the  Church,  the  other  to  a  legalistic  conception  of 
the  Bible.  Retaining  the  spiritual  authority  of  the  historic 
Jesus,  the  root  of  specific  Christianity  must  be  grafted  afresh 
with  the  new  growths  of  rational,  ethical,  and  artistic  faith. 

And  this  great  process  ought  to  be  better  achieved  than 
ever  before.  What  in  the  former  time  was  accomplished 
largely  out  of  the  pressures  of  practical  life,  could  now  be 
done  self-consciously  and  deliberately.  We  have  behind  us 
the  modern  scientific  and  analytical  studies  of  religion.  It  is 
now  time  to  transform  the  academic  survey  of  the  psy- 
chology of  religion  into  applied  psychology  of  religion.  Only 
a  great  priest  can  perform  the  marriage  of  na'ive  popular 
religion  with  critical  and  rationalized  experience.  Only  a 
great  artist  can  weld  the  components  of  historic  faith  with 
seething,  aspiring,  naturalistic  humanism. 

It  has  been  done  before,  it  can  be  better  done  again.  The 
materials  for  a  great  comprehensive  reconstruction  are  at 
hand,  and  those  who  do  the  work  will  discover  all  but 
inexhaustible  resources  for  the  task  in  the  world  of  the  Arts 
as  well  as  in  the  worlds  of  Science  and  Reform.  This  has 
been  impossible  under  the  old  dualistic  view  of  human 
nature,  which  afforded  no  legitimate  basis  for  the  fleshly 
appeal  of  art.  The  new  studies  of  experience  and  the  newer 
views  of  nature  and  of  human  nature  not  only  constitute  a 
sound  basis  for  artistic  progress  but,  vice  versa,  open  the 
gates  that  the  rivers  of  faith  may  be  freshened  from  the 
springs  of  art. 

What  is  needed,  therefore,  is  not  so  much  a  Reformation 
as  a  new  Formation,  comparable  in  comprehensiveness  with 
the  early  formulations  of  Christianity.  The  reformers 
thought  they  could  do  without  forms :  we  know  that  we  must 
create  forms  for  realizing  and  propagating  our  faiths.  We 
have  been  thinking  of  the  new  age  in  contrast  with  the 

.245. 


Art  &  Religion 

Reformation  age.  If  human  life  is  to  be  successful,  possibly 
the  next  hundred  years  will  rather  be  of  such  a  character  as   I 
properly  to  be  called  the  time  of  the  great  Formation,  i 

The  Church  of  the  Future  will  be  the  Church  of  the  Open  i 
Mind.  We  are  here  interested  in  this  only  as  it  relates  to  the  j 
arts  and  to  worship.  We  have  already  endeavored  to  see  that  i 
the  artist  is  not  only  not  inimical  to  new  truth,  but  that  his  f 
own  perennial  tendency  is  to  break  away  from  outworn  | 
ideas.  The  artist,  always  seeking  new  modes  of  utterance,  | 
thereby  ever  transforms  the  thing  that  is  uttered.  And  we  \ 
have  already  sought  to  appreciate  also  the  aids  of  art  to  the  i 
rationalizing  process.  Arriving  at  an  apprehension  of  the  ' 
truth  is  not  wholly  a  matter  of  science  and  philosophy,  but  < 
in  part  a  mystical  process.  A  great  art  of  worship  would  j 
foster  a  great  theology.  ' 

The  Future  Church  will  be  the  Brotherly  Church.  It  will  I 
not  only  teach  advancing  ideals  of  human  relations,  but  ■ 
practice  them.  It  will  not  only  discuss  the  problems  of  right  i 
and  wrong,  but  call  men  to  definite  and  sacramental  dedica-  j 
tion  to  the  right.  It  will  resolve  the  tragedy  of  culture  by  j 
carrying  it  forward  out  of  the  realm  of  the  mind  by  a  cul- 
ture of  the  will.  A  great  modern  art  of  worship  will  not  j 
merely  display  a  tangible  brotherhood  realized  in  the  com-  \ 
munion  of  the  saints,  but  it  will  fire  the  resolution  of  friend-  ; 
ship  until  the  whole  community  is  absorbed  in  that  fellow-  ■ 
ship.  ! 

The  Church  of  the  Future  will  be  the  Church  Beautiful,  i 
It  will  value  and  enjoy  beauty,  any  beauty,  the  beauty  of  i 
anything,  the  beauty  of  the  whole  of  life.  Most  of  the  artis-  ' 
try  used  by  religion  is  symbolic  in  character  and  classic  in  : 
method.  It  begins  with  definite  religious  concepts  and  seeks  ■ 
to  express  these  ideas  in  forms  of  beauty — musical,  liturgi-  i 
cal,  architectural,  decorative,  or  ritualistic.  The  Church  of  I 
the  Future  will  utilize  also  the  romantic  method.  It  will  ; 
value  forms  of  beauty  in  painting,  music,  and  dramatic  i 
action  not  specifically  symbolical,  but  realistic,  poetical,  or  s 
lyrical  productions.  That  is  to  say,  it  will  set  forth  the  one-  \ 
ness  of  life  not  only  theologically  and  ethically  but  also  ^ 
aesthetically.  j 

•  246 •  I 


The  Future  Church 

What  does  all  this  mean  practically'?  Briefly,  it  means  for 
the  average  church  or  the  small  church  that  it  will  be  fur- 
nished with  a  beautiful  building  and  supplied  with  far 
superior  materials  for  all  its  work  and  worship.  It  will  be 
assisted  to  the  development  of  a  noble  liturgy.  It  will  from 
time  to  time  be  visited  by  superior  preachers  connected  with 
preaching  orders.  Freed  from  the  burden  of  much  unprofit- 
able sermonizing,  the  minister  will  be  enabled  to  improve 
the  religious  education  of  the  young  and  of  the  old  and 
more  richly  perform  his  priestly  and  pastoral  functions. 

For  the  extraordinary  church  in  the  city,  it  means  a  more 
elaborate  cathedral  organization,  where  a  dean  and  his 
canons  constitute  a  chapter  of  specialized  clergy.  The  staff 
will  include  teachers,  preachers,  dramatists,  musicians,  visi- 
tors, directors,  and  evangelists.  The  intellectual  life  will  be 
developed  from  the  pulpit  as  freely  as  in  the  past  age,  much 
more  freely  in  the  church  school,  and  more  democratically 
in  the  open  forum.  Practical  service  to  the  community  will 
develop  according  to  the  needs  of  differing  situations.  The 
heart  and  core  of  this  community  service,  however,  will  be 
the  pastoral  work  of  good  cheer  in  the  homes  of  people,  and 
the  personal,  priestly  ministry  of  consultation.  The  public 
worship  will  be  founded  upon  the  normal  great  ritual 
drama  of  the  spiritual  life.  Other  public  exercises  will  be 
more  varied,  including  great  evangelistic  appeals,  free  and 
informal  discussions,  noble  musical  presentations,  and  I 
think  also  pageants  and  morality  plays  in  the  choir  of  the 
church. 

We  cannot  have  this  Future  Church,  we  cannot  have 
church  union,  we  cannot  have  a  new  age  until  we  acquire 
a  new  psychology  about  practical  religion.  Nothing  is  more 
important  in  this  attempt  than  to  reexamine  the  categorical 
relations  of  the  religious  organization  in  its  ordinary  con- 
stitution. The  background  of  our  consciousness  in  these  mat- 
ters is  unnecessarily  divided.  The  mediaeval  church,  think- 
ing of  the  minister  under  the  category  of  the  priesthood,  has 
never  genuinely  admitted  the  prophetic  category.  The 
Protestant  body,  thinking  of  the  minister  as  a  prophet,  has 
hindered  his  usefulness  in  his  ordinary  capacities  by  assign- 

.249. 


Art  &  Religion 

ing  him  a  role  which  in  the  nature  of  the  case  is  extraordi- 
nary. So  also  in  less  sharp  contrasts  we  have  spoken  of  public 
services  as  "going  to  meeting,"  "going  to  Mass,"  "going  to 
hear  Dr.  So  and  So."  None  of  these  things  is  primary. 

The  way  out  of  this  confused  background  is  the  plain 
recognition  of  the  primacy  of  religion.  The  religious  experi- 
ence is  the  human  experience  of  the  living  God.  Art  is  not 
religion,  but  only  the  stepping-stone  to  it.  Theology  is  not 
religion,  but  only  the  description  of  it.  Morality  is  not  reli- 
gion, but  the  resultant  issue  of  it.  The  culture  of  the  reli- 
gious experience  itself  is  therefore  the  primary  function  of 
the  practical  religious  institution. 

If  the  primary  category  of  religion  is  the  religious  experi- 
ence, the  primary  category  in  describing  the  function  of  the 
church  is  the  Cultus.  The  public  worship  of  God  is  the  reason 
for  the  being  of  the  organized  church.  It  does  not  attempt 
chiefly  to  provide  a  cult  of  ideas  as  do  scientists  and  phi- 
losophers; nor  a  cult  of  ethics  as  do  sociologists;  nor  a  cult 
of  beauty  as  do  aesthetes;  but  the  culture  of  religion,  the  all- 
embracing  life.  It  is  for  this  primary  function  that  the 
church  is  chiefly  valued,  even  by  the  outsider.  Entirely 
typical  of  this  estimate  is  the  word  of  a  modem  artist  and 
philanthropist,  Mr.  Allen  Bartlett  Pond.  "The  pulpit  as  a 
doctrinaire  platform  may  pass  away;  creeds  may  come  and 
go;  but  the  church  as  a  house  of  worship  must  remain,  its 
liturgies  and  its  rituals,  purified  and  refined,  voicing  for  men 
their  deepest  feelings,  their  loftiest  aspirations,  their  noblest 
ideals."* 

The  Future  Church  will  maintain  a  great  cult  of  religion 
itself,  personal  and  social,  the  stabilizing  background  of 
change  in  theology  and  in  morals,  the  great  ordinary  over 
against  which  the  extraordinary  has  significance,  the  under- 
lying being  out  of  which  there  always  flows  that  which  is 
becoming. 

The  corporeal  character  of  this  great  cult,.'The  nature  and 
method  of  its  apparatus^will  not  be  that  of  creedalism,  noij 
the  personal  rousing  of^  hedonistic  emotions  for  their  owrl 
sake,! but  that  of  great  symbolic  acts  and  objects  of  beauty. 

*  Quoted  from  the  Brick  Builder,  vol.  8,  p.  174. 

•  250- 


The  Future  Church 

This  great  cult  will  be  administered  by  priestly  officers  who 
will  organize  a  scientific  school  of  moral  and  religious  educa- 
tion; keep  themselves  in  readiness  for  personal  consultation; 
devise  exercises  in  public  worship,  simple  and  quiet  at  times, 
at  other  times  brilliant  and  majestic;  and  keep  open  welcome 
to  the  prophetic  voices  of  the  day,  whether  of  scientist, 
reformer,  or  artist. 

This  great  cult  will  be  the  record  and  consummation  of 
the  national  ideals,  the  pictured  description  of  the  national 
life,  the  supreme  and  harmonized  utterance  of  the  voice  of 
the  age. 

This  great  cult  will  be  rooted  firnnly  in  the  primary  sensa- 
tional approach  to  human  nature,  but  it  will  flower  in  the 
spiritual  and  sacramental  realization  of  the  divine  nature  of 
persons. 

This  great  cult  will  be  housed  in  a  building  made  with 
hands  but  which  by  its  very  style  and  tone  will  intimate 
both  the  near  and  far  presence  of  Divinity. 

The  time  draws  near  when  it  should  be  possible  to  con- 
struct such  a  great  Cultus,  on  the  one  hand  freed  of  authori- 
tative and  legalistic  formularies;  and  on  the  other  free,  by 
competent  technique  and  the  mastery  of  its  joyous  forms,  to 
spread  the  influence  of  the  noblest  ideals  in  the  social  life. 

The  Church  of  the  Future  will  heal  the  breach  between 
religion  and  the  ancient  categories  of  truth,  goodness,  and 
beauty.  Yet  the  worship  of  the  new  age  will  be  not  less  but 
more  religious  in  spirit,  not  less  but  more  Christian  in  essen- 
tial character.  If  the  spur  of  the  scientist  is  the  love  of  truth, 
the  joy  of  the  Christian  is  the  Truth  of  Love.  If  the  zeal  of 
the  moralist  strives  to  achieve  some  association  or  brother- 
hood of  goodness,  the  joy  of  the  Christian  is  the  Goodness 
of  Brotherhood.  If  the  satisfaction  of  the  artist  is  the  life  of 
beauty,  the  joy  of  the  Christian  is  the  Beauty  of  Life,  all 
life,  man's  life,  the  Life  of  God. 


251 


Appendix 

IT  would  require  a  volume  properly  to  collate  and  criti- 
cise in  detail  the  various  orders  of  worship  amongst  the 
free  churches.  I  am  appending  therefore  only  the  simple 
orders  used  in  our  own  church,  the  regular  Ordinary,  and  the 
order  for  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

The  usual  Sunday  morning  order,  as  will  be  readily  ob- 
served, is  very  simple.  It  is  designed  to  follow  the  course 
of  experience  as  outlined  in  chapters  fifteen  and  sixteen. 

The  Organ  Prelude  and  Processional  Hymn  are,  as  sug- 
gested, introductory  in  character. 

The  burden  of  Presentation  is  entirely  carried  by  the 
Introit,  which  for  every  service  has  about  the  character  of 
those  printed  in  chapter  seventeen. 

The  second  principal  liturgical  division,  the  Prayer  of 
Penitence,  is  the  Prayer  of  Confession  taken  from  the  Fifty- 
first  Psalm. 

The  third  element,  that  of  Praise,  is  chiefly  expressed  by 
the  Anthem.  Sometimes  a  hymn  of  praise  takes  its  place. 
This  note  of  Praise,  that  is,  the  upward  swing  of  the  pendu- 
lum of  attention,  in  the  swift  alternations  which  so  typically 
characterize  the  mystic  experience,  is  further  impressed  and 
sustained  a  little  later  by  the  Doxology  and  the  Gloria  Patri. 

The  definite  mental  and  moral  content  to  be  realized  and 
readjusted  in  the  experience  of  Illumination,  is  suggested  in 
the  Scripture  Readings  and  pastoral  Prayer.  The  illumined 
outlook  is  then  led  to  congregational  expression  in  a  Confes- 
sion of  Faith.  Our  present  material  is  taken  from  I  John  and 
from  Romans. 

A  definite  suggestion  of  personal  Dedication  is  made  in 
connection  with  the  Offertory  by  a  Scripture  verse,  freshly 
chosen  for  each  service,  and  by  a  consecration  prayer  as  the 
offering  is  received. 

The  emotional  course  is  then  more  or  less  neutralized  by 

•  2  C2  • 


Appendix 

the  hymn  preceding  the  sernion,  which  thus  prepares  the  way 
for  fresh  attention  to  the  explicit  thought  of  the  day.  This 
thought  has  already  been  prepared  for  or  intimated  by  the 
Introit,  Scriptures,  and  Prayers. 

Two  other  items  should  be  mentioned,  which  indeed  are 
extremely  important.  The  little  responsive  benedictions  and 
ejaculations  after  the  prayer  of  confession,  serve  to  graduate 
the  mood  between  penitence  and  praise.  A  brief  gradual  of 
organ  playing  leads  from  the  mental  interest  of  the  Scrip- 
ture lessons  to  the  reiterated  praise  of  the  Doxology. 

The  Communion  Order  is  in  part  about  the  same.  In  the 
one  herewith  published  the  traditional  words  were  sung  in 
the  Gloria  in  Excelsis,  Benedictus,  Te  Deum,  Sanctus, 
Agnus  Dei  and  Nunc  Dimittis. 

Although  most  of  the  prayers  are  free  and  extemporane- 
ous, usually  the  ancient  Communion  Collect  is  used  at  some 
place.  Sometimes  a  traditional  prayer  is  said  at  the  Off  ertory. 
The  Communion  Admonition  commonly  includes  the  sug- 
gestions contained  in  the  Orate  Fratres  and  Sursum  Corda. 
The  Prayer  of  Thanksgiving  opens  and  closes  with  the 
words  of  the  traditional  Preface. 


.  9. 


253 


Order  of  Worship 

ORGAN  PRELUDE 

PROCESSIONAL  HYMN 

INTROIT 

PRAYER  OF  CONFESSION 

Have  mercy  upon  us,  0  God,  according  to  thy  loving  kindness. 
According  to  the  multitude  of  thy  tender  mercies,  blot  out  our  trans- 
gressions. 

Wash  us  thoroughly  from  cur  iniquity,  and  cleanse  us  from  our 
sin.  Agai?ist  thee  have  we  sinned  and  done  evil  in  thy  sight. 

Create  in  us  clean  hearts,  0  God;  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 
us.  Cast  us  not  away  from  thy  presence;  And  take  not  thy  holy  spirit 
from  us. 

Restore  unto  us  the  joy  of  thy  salvation;  And  uphold  us  with  thy 
free  spirit. — Amen. 

Minister — The  Lord  be  with  you. 
People — And  with  thy  spirit. 
Minister — Praise  ye  the  Lord. 
People — The  Lord's  name  be  praised. 

ANTHEM 

PRAYER 

SCRIPTURE  READING 

THE  DOXOLOGY 

CONFESSION  OF  FAITH 

God  IS  love;  and  every  one  that  loveth,  is  born  of  God,  and  know- 
eth  God.  We  have  beheld  and  bear  witness  that  the  Father  hath  sent 
the  Son  to  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  And  this  commandment  have 
we  from  him,  that  he  who  loveth  God  love  his  brother  also.  The 
Spirit  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit,  that  we  are  children  of  God; 
and  if  children,  then  heirs ;  heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ: 
if  so  be  that  we  suffer  with  him,  that  we  may  be  also  glorified  with 
him. 

THE  GLORIA  PATRI 

OFFERTORY 

HYMN 

SERMON 

THE  BENEDICTION— The  Congregation  Seated. 

RECESSIONAL  HYMN 

ORGAN  POSTLUDE 


254 


Order  of  Worship  for  Holy  Communion 

ORGAN  PRELUDE 

PROCESSIONAL  HYMN 

INTROIT 

PRAYER  OF  CONFESSION 

Have  mercy  upon  us,  0  God,  according  to  thy  loving  kindness. 
According  to  the  multitude  of  thy  tender  mercies,  blot  out  our  trans- 
gressions. 

Wash  us  thoroughly  from  our  iniquity,  and  cleanse  us  from  our 
sin.  Against  thee  have  we  sinned  and  done  evil  in  thy  sight. 

Create  in  us  clean  hearts,  0  God;  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 
us.  Cast  us  not  away  from  thy  presence:  And  take  not  thy  holy  spirit 
from  us. 

Restore  unto  us  the  joy  of  thy  salvation:  And  uphold  us  with  thy 
free  spirit. — Amen. 

Minister — The  Lord  be  with  you. 

People — And  with  thy  spirit. 

Minister — Praise  ye  the  Lord. 

People — The  Lord's  name  be  praised. 
ANTHEM— Gloria  in  Excelsis. 
PRAYER 
EPISTLE 

GRADUAL— Benedictus. 
GOSPEL 

THE  DOXOLOGY 
CONFESSION  OF  FAITH 

God  IS  love:  and  every  one  that  loveth,  is  born  of  God,  and  know- 
eth  God.  We  have  beheld  and  bear  witness  that  the  Father  hath  sent 
the  Son  to  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  And  this  commandment  have 
we  from  him,  that  he  who  loveth  God  love  his  brother  also.  The 
Spirit  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit,  that  we  are  children  of  God: 
and  if  children,  then  heirs :  heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ: 
if  so  be  that  we  suffer  with  him,  that  we  may  be  also  glorified  with 
him. 

THE  GLORIA  PATRI 
RECEPTION  OF  MEMBERS 
ANTHEM— Te  Deum. 
SERMON 
OFFERTORY 

COMMUNION  ADMONITION 
PRAYER  OF  THANKSGIVING  and  SANCTUS 
THE  WORDS  OF  INSTITUTION 

PRAYER  OF  CONSECRATION  and  the  LORD'S  PRAYER 
THE  HOLY  COMMUNION— Agnus  Dei. 

— Nunc  Dimittis. 
THE  BENEDICTION— The  Congregation  Seated. 
CHORAL  AMEN— Silent  Meditation. 

.255. 


Index 


AARON,  99 

J~\.  Abbaye  aux  Hommes,    186 
Abydos,  92 

Acropolis,  180,  182 

Adams,  Herbert,  11 

Advent,  175 

Adventism,  61 

"Aesthetic,"  25,  29,  33 

Agnus  Dei,  253 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  185 

Allen,  Alexander  V.  G.,  121 

Allen  &  Collens,        123,  192,  225 
Alps,  186,  190 

Amaziah,  82, 84 

America,  14,  17,  38,  52,  122,  128, 

135,  189,  198 
American,  3,  12,  15,  40,  42,  45, 
66,  73,  114,  120,  127,  128,  200, 
202 
American    Academy    of    De- 
sign, 1 1 
American  Architect,  The,       186 
American  Journal  of  Theol- 
ogy, The,                                118 
Ammon  Ra,                                lOO 
Amos,                                58,  82,  84 
Andover  Seminary,                   192 
Angelo,  Michel,                      12,  25 
Anglican,    34,  90,  120,  130,  200 
Anglican  Church,      38,  109,  214 
Apocalypse,                                  61 
"Approaches   toward   Church 

Unity,"  131 

Aquinas,  Thomas,  196 

Architectural  Record,  The, 

7,  190,  196 
Arizona,  9 

Aries,  186 

Arlington,  Mass.,  230,  231 


"Art  and  Environment," 

12,  54,  182 
"Art  and  Ritual,"  18 

"Art  of  Worship,  The,"         137 
Assyrian,  19 

Asylum   Hill   Church,  Hart- 
ford, 206 
Athens,                                   13,  180 
Augsburg  Confession,  59 
Auvergne,                                   186 


BALDWIN,  Simeon,  34 

Balfour,  Arthur,  27 

Baltimore,  Md.,  79,  192 

Bangkok,  10 

Baptism,  102 

Baptist,  14,  41,  102,   125 

Baptist  Churches,  130,  215 

Baptistery,  Florence,  93 

Basilican,  191 

Bellini,  94 

Benedictus,  253 

Bennett,  C.  A.,  30,  117 

Bethel,  57,  82,  84 

Bethlehem,  183 

Bible,  81,  90,  133,  157,  245 

Bohemian,  130 

"Book  of  Common  Prayer," 
^^  38,  81,  122,  125,  137,  138 
"Book    of    Worship    of    the 

Church  School,"  109 

Bosanquet,  Bernard,  26 

Boston,  Mass.,  45,  125,  193,  214, 

218,  222,  247 
Bragdon,  Claude,  7 

Bramante,  190 

Breton,  97 

Brick  Builder,  The,  250 


257 


Index 


Brick    Presbyterian    Church, 

New  York,  167 

British,  39 

Brittany,  7 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  195 

Browning,  98 

Brunelleschi,  190 

Bryn  Athyn,  Pa.,  192 

Bucer,  130 

Buddha,  65 

Buddhist,  19, 65 

Bureau  of  Architecture,  233 

"Burghers  of  Calais,"  97 

Byzantine,       183,  184,  185,  189, 

195 
Byzantium,         13,  184,  196,  199, 
201,  211 


CAEN,  186 

Calvary  Church,  Pitts- 
burgh, 192 
Calvinist,  59 
Cambridge,  14 
"Can  the  Church  Survive  *?"  7 
Canaanitish,  57 
Carthage,  160 
Catholic,  9,  57,  59,  86,  131,  206, 

245 
Central  Church,  Boston,  214,  2 18 
Central  Church,  Providence, 

197,214 
Central  Church,  Worcester,  214 
Chaldean,  19 

Chapel    of    the    Intercession, 

New  York,  192 

Charlemagne,  7 

Cheshire,  Conn.,  43 

Chicago,  111.,  195,  227 

Chinese,  19 

Christ,   74,    100,    105,    129,    132, 

244 
Christ  Church,  New  Haven,  192 
Christendom,  116,  118,  130 

Christian,     37,  42,  60,  105,  117, 

127,  153,  198,  217,  224 
"Christian  Institutions,"  121 


Christian  Science,  61,  201 

Christian  World,  The,  120 

Christianity,  35,  39,  69,  114,  127, 

128,  198,  244,  245 
Christmas,  78,  175 

"Christmas  in  Heaven,"  95' 

Chrysostom,  62 

"Church  at  the  Cross  Roads, 

The,"  119 

"Church     in     the     Furnace, 

The,"  39  I 

Church  of  the  Apostles,  Sa-         ■! 
lonica,  185  \ 

Church    of   the    Chora,    Con- 
stantinople, 185  ^ 
Church  of  the  Divine  Pater- 
nity, New  York,                   222  j 
Church  of  England,  140  J 
Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles,         j 
Cologne,  186   i 
Church  School,       109,  no,  229,  1 
.233'  234  1 
Cicero,                                           160  ;l 
Cistercian,                                    188  ' 
Civil  War,                                   85S 
Classic,                            9,  40,  106  ( 
"Classical    Heritage    of    the         ] 
Middle  Ages,  The,"               12  I 
Classicism,                           97,  202  1 
Cleveland,  Ohio,        20,  192,  195  ! 
"Cloud,"  The,                              25  j 
Coe,  George  Albert,                  109 
Coit,  Stanton,                      54,  166  » 
Cologne,                                      186  ] 
Colonial,    45,  191,  195,  199,  201 
"Community  Church,  The,"  128  ,' 
Confiteor,                             152,  164 
Congregational,    14,  41,  125,  140 
Congregational  Churches,       215,  < 

221,  223 
Congregational       Union      of 

Great  Britain,  119 

Congregationalist,  The,  65 

Constantine,  184 

Constantinople,  184 

Coptic,  37 

Corinthians,  56 


^58 


Index 


Cram,  Ralph  Adams,  7,  191,  195, 

196,  230,  237 
Cram  &  Ferguson,  193,  247 

Cram,  Goodhue  &  Ferguson, 

193,  209,  219,  221 
Croce,  Benedetto,      25,29,33,51 
Cross,  George  E.,  115 

Crouch,  223 

"Crucifixion,"  91 

DAN,  57 

Dante,  11,  19,  223 

Davies,  J.  W.  F.,  1 10 

Day  of  Atonement,  57,  77 

Dearmer,  Percy,  137,  138 

Declaration  of  Independence,  101 
della  Seta,  Alessandro,  19 

Demeter,  97 

Des  Cartes,  180 

Detroit,  Mich.,  192 

Deuteronomy,  58 

de  Wulf,  Maurice,  186 

Dexter,  Henry  Martyn,  140 

Dickenson,  Clarence,  167 

Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  163 
Doric,  182 

Doxology,  156,  160,  176,  252 
"Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  24 
Diirer,  Albert,  223 

Durham  Cathedral,  186 

Dutch,  224 

"Dying  Gaul,"  97 

EASTER,  78,  175 
Eastern  Church,  239 
Eckel  &  Boschen,  195 
Edward  VI,  38 
Eg>^ptian,  19,  92 
Elijah,  81 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  12,  38 
Elizabethans,  38, 40 
Emerson,  28 
Emmanuel  Church,  Balti- 
more, 79 
England,       12,  38,  66,  130,  186, 

187,   190 

Englewood,  N.  J.,  221 

.  1 


English,  9,  38,  65,  130 

Ephraim,  10 

Episcopal,  14,  39,  125,  130,  154, 

192 
Episcopal  Church,    38,  122,  137, 

200,  214 
Erasmus,  190 

Erectheum,  182 

Ethical  Culture  Society,  68 

Eucharist,  103,  162 

Euclid  Avenue   Presbyterian 

Church,  Cleveland,  192 

Europe,  9,  188 

Evanston,  111.,  205 

FIJIS,  10 

First     Baptist     Church, 
Pittsburgh,     21,  23,   192, 

193 
First  Church,  Boston,    214,  218, 

221 
First  Church,  Cheshire,  43 

First  Congregational  Church, 

Montclair,  192,  237 

First  Congregational  Church, 

Riverside,  195 

First  Congregational  Church, 

St.  Louis,  137 

First     Methodist     Episcopal 

Church,  Evanston,  205 

First     Presbyterian     Church, 

Englewood,  221 

First     Presbyterian     Church, 

Oakland,  192 

First     Presbyterian     Church, 

St.  Joseph,  195 

Fitch,  Rev.  Albert  Parker,  7 

Flanders,  12 

Flemish,  20 

Florence,  12,  93,  190,  195 

Florentine,  1 1 

"Folkways,"  108 

Fortesque,  Adrian,  37 

Fourth  Presbyterian  Church, 

Chicago,  227 

Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  9^ 

France,       12,  185,  186,  187,  190 


259 


Inde] 


"Freedom  of  the  Faith,  The,"  66 
Freemantle,  Archdeacon,  27 

French,  9,  130 

Frothingham,  189 


37 
108 

14 

37 

153 

37.  199 

186,  190 

97 
97 

164,  253 


GALLICAN, 
Galton, 
Garrett  Biblical  Institute, 
Gelasian, 

General  Confession, 
Georgian, 
Germany, 
"Gleaner,"  The, 
"Gleaners," 
Gloria  in  Excelsis, 
Gloria  Patri,  156,  160,  252 

God,    24,  27,  70,  74,  87,  99,  100, 

101,   102,   103,   117,   129,   144, 

146,   148,   149,   150,   157,   177, 
^^  235,  236,  239 
"Gold,      Frankincense      and 

Myrrh,"  7 

"Golden  Calf,"  100 

Goodhue,  Bertram  Grosvenor, 

21,  191,  230,  237 
Gothic,    9,  19,  37,  45,  186,  187, 

188,   191,   192,   196,   197,  199, 

200,  201,  211 
Grand  Rapids,  Mich.,  191 

Graeco-Roman,  196 

Greece,       12,  180,  185,  189,  201 
Greek,        19,  24,   182,  183,   185, 

188,  191,  197,  198,  244 


Greek  Church, 
Greek  Rite, 
Greeks, 
Gregorian, 
Groton  School, 


34 

120 

9,  93,  180,  182 

37 
192 


84 

240 


HADLEY,  Arthur  T., 
Hall  of  Fame, 
Hamlin,  A.  D.  F.,     189,  190,  196 
"Hand  of  God,"  The,  51 

"Handbook  of  Congregation- 
alism," 140 
Harrison,  Jane,      18,  30,  77,  103 
Hartford,  Conn.,                        206 


Hartshorne,  Hugh,  109 

Hastings,  Thomas,  190,  196,  197 
Hebrew,  57,  64,  76,  127,  244 
Heidelberg  Catechism,  59,  94 
Hellenic,  182,  184 

Henderson,  Charles  R.,  7 

"Hermes,"  93 

"History  of  Architecture,  A,"  189 
Hocking,  William  E.,  1 1,  29,  104 
Holmes,  John  Haynes,  128 

Holyoke,  Mass.,  123,  192 

Hopis,  9 

Hosea,  58 

Hospital  of  the  Innocents,  190 
Hotel  des  Invalides,  190 

House  of  Hope  Presbyterian 

Church,  St.  Paul,    192,209,222 
"Human  Nature  and  Its  Re- 
making," 11,  29 
Humanists,  190 
Huss,  John,  84 

IFFLEY  Church,  186 

International  Journal  of 
Ethics,  The,  30,  117 

International  Studio,  The,  28 
Introit,  5,  37,  155,  157,  166,  252 
Irving,  Sir  Henry,  145 

Isaiah,  5,  58,  145,  148 

He  de  France, 
Israel, 
Italian, 
Italians, 
Italy, 

JACKSON, 
Jacobean, 
Jacobite, 
Japan, 
Japanese, 
Jehovah, 
Jeremiah, 
Jeroboam, 
Jerusalem, 
Jesus,     60,  64,  83,  99,  127,  129 

133.  245 
Jewish,  57,  133,  244 


13 

77 

12,  19 

93 

9> 

190 
189 

128 

190 

37 
16 

64 

84, 
57 
57. 

57 

127 

82 

84 

•  260 


Index 


Jews, 

Jones,  Inlgo, 
Judea, 
Jumieges, 
Justinian, 


126 
190 

186 
184 


KINGDOM  of  God,  35 

King's     Weigh     House 
Chapel,  London,  118,  122, 

137 
Kioto,  10 

Kirchmayer,  I.,  79,  95 

Knapp,  Rev.  Shepherd,  218 

Kyrie  Eleison,  153,  155 


''T  AST  and  First,"  93 

J^  Latin,  12,  37,  39 

Lenten,  78 

Leonine,  37 

Lloyd,  Alfred  H.,  7 

Lombard,  195 

Lombardy,  186 

London,  20,  190,  195 

Lord's  Prayer,  156 

Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  12 

Lowell  Institute,  186 

Lowrle,  Walter,  185,  222 

Ludlow,  William  Orr,     198,  236 
Luther,  58,  83,  127 

Lutheran,  40,  45,  125,  214 


51.  147 
182 
119 
186 


MACBETH, 
Macedonia, 
Maclaren,  Ian, 
Mainz, 

Mansart,  45 

"Manual     for     Training     in 

Worship,"  109 

Mars,  86 

Mass,  The,      37,  41,  58,  70,  120, 

155,  162 
Massachusetts,  1 1 

McAfee,  Joseph  E,,  129 

McClure,  Sir  John,         119,  120 
"Meaning     of     Architecture, 

The,"  10,  12,  13,  30,  198 


Medinet  Habu,  77 

Mens  Creatrix,  27 

Messianism,  74 

Methodist,  14,  78,   125 

Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 

125,  215,  233 
Mexican,  19 

Micah,  58 

Michel  Angelo,  12,  25 

Middle  Ages,  7 

Milan,  185 

Military  Chapel,  West  Point, 

192 
Millet,  97 

Milner-White,  Rev.  E.,  39 

Milton,  19 

Missionary  Education  Move- 
ment, 46 
"Modern  Architecture,"  190,  197 
Mohammedanism,  108 
Montclair,  N.  J.,  192,  237 
"Monuments    of    the    Early 

Church,"  185,  222 

Moody,  Rev.  Dwight  L.,  62 

Moore,  Rev.  Edward  C,         197 
Moorish,  12 

Mosaic,  60 

Mozarabic,  37 

Munger,  Rev.  Theodore  T.,     65 
Mycenean,  19 

"Mystic  Way,  The,"     158,  162, 
163,  164 

NEW  England,  65,  134,  195 
New  Haven,  Conn.,  78,  91, 
192 
New  Testament,  84 

Newton,  Mass.,        125,  223,  225 
New  York,  N.  Y.,     14,  23,  192, 

219,  222,  230,  240 
Nicene  Creed,  94 

Nike  Apteros,  182 

Nippon,  13 

Norman,  186,  187 

North  Church,  New  Haven,    191 
Norwegian,  130 

Nunc  Dimittis,  253 


261 


Index 


OAKLAND,  Cal.,  192 
Oath     of     the     Tennis 

Court,  101 

Oberammergau,  10 

Old  Testament,  75,  84 

Olympia,  93 

Omar  Khayyam,  61 

Orate  Fratres,  253 

Orchard,  Rev.  W.  E.,  118,  122, 

136,  138 

"Order    for    Divine  Service, 

The,"  136,  137 

Ordinary,  120 

Outlook,  The,  53 
"Outlook  for  Religion,  The,"  118 

Oxford,  10 


190 
64,  178 

77 
181 


PALADIO, 
Palm  Sunday, 
Panathenaic, 
Pantheon, 
Paris,  190 

Park,  Rev.  Charles  E.,  218 

Park     Avenue     Presbyterian 

Church,  New  York,  221 

Park  Street  Church,  Boston,    191 
Parthenon,  9,  240 

Passover,  100 

Patmore,  Coventry,  182,  188 

Patton,  Rev.  Cornelius  H.,       65 
Paul,  149,  180 

Pericles,  11,  182 

Perigneux,  185 

Persons,  Rev.  Frederick  T.,     199 
Peruvian, 
Pharasaic, 
Phidian, 
Phillipps,  Lisle  March,    12,  24, 

182,  189 
Phillips,  Wendell,  83 

Pisa,  93 

Pisano,  Nicola,  93 

Piti  Palace,  190 

Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  21,  23,  192,  193 
Plato,  180 

Plotinus,  149,  180 

Poitou,  186 


19 
59 

182 


Pond,  Allen  Bartlett,  250 

Pond,  Irving  K.,  10,  12,  13,  30, 

182,  197 
Porter,  Mrs.  Frank  E.,  78 

Portland,  Me.,  126 

Praxiteles,  93 

Prayer  Book,  9,  39,  42,  120,  130, 

"Prayers,  Ancient  and  Mod- 
ern," 81 
Presbyterian,                       41,  125 
"Presbyterian  Book  of  Wor- 
ship,"                                      137 
Presbyterian  Church,               215 
"Principle  in  Art,"                   188 
Propylaea,                                   182 
Protestant,    3,  14,  34,  38,  41,  45, 
71,    103,    117,    119,    130,    131, 
197,  206,  223,  236 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church, 

38,  122 
Protestantism,     3,  4,  5,  36,  40, 
54,  62,  67,  75,  86,   107,   114, 
126,  132,  197 
Providence,  R.  I.,  197,  214 

Psalms,  53,  58,  136,  153 

Puritan,  40,  64,  134,  202 

Puritans,  40,  223 

"Puritanism  in  Art,"  223 

Puvis  de  Chavannes,  97 


0 


UAKERS, 


69 


RAVENNA,  183,  185 

Reformation,     1,  3,  36,  59, 
62,    121,    126,    135,    190, 
197,  241,  243,  245 
Reformed,  41,  45,  125,  130 

Reformed  Church,  130,  137,  214, 

223 
Reformed  Episcopal  Church,  140 
"Religion   and   Art,"  19 

Renaissance,  9,  20,  93,  189,  190, 

191,  195,  196,  197,  199,  201 
"Revolutionary    Function    of 
the  Church,  The,"  128 


•  262  • 


Index 


Rheims, 

11 

Richardson, 

45 

Ritter,  Waldemar  H., 

79 

Riverside,  Cal., 

195 

Rochester  Seminary, 

117 

Rodin, 

51 

Roman,  182,  183,  184,  186,  189, 

190,  191,  195,  244 
Romanist,  37,  lOi 

Romans,  184 

Roman  Catholic,       37,  120,  122, 

126,  129 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  34,  37, 

38,  130,  195,  197,  214 
Roman  Empire,  7,  184 

Romanesque,  185,  186,  191,  195, 

196,  197,  199,  201 
Romantic,  106,  182 

Romanticism,  97,  202 

Rome,  38,  183,  189,  212 

Royden,  Maude,  140 

Russell,  Bertrand,  92 


SACRAMENTALISM,       97 
St.  Agnes's,  Cleveland,     20, 

195 

St.  Ambrose,  Milan,  185 

St.  Anne's  Chapel,  Arlington, 

231 
St.  Augustine,  146,  149 

St.       Bartholomew's,       New 

York,  230 

St.  Bernard,  149 

St.  Bride's,  London,  191 

St.  Catherine's,  Somerville,     195 
St.  Clement's,  Chicago,  195 

St.  Front,  Periguieux,  185 

St.  Gregory's,  Brooklyn,  195 

St.  Irene,  Constantinople,        185 
St.  James,  37 

St.    John    the    Divine,    New 


York, 
St.  Joseph,  Mo., 
St.  Mark, 
St.  Mark's,  Venice, 
St.  Mary  le  Bow,  London, 


240 
195 
37 
185 
191 


St.  Mary's  of  the  Lake,  Chi- 
cago, 195 
St.  Paul,  Minn.,       192,  209,  222 
St.  Paul's,  London,  190 
St.  Paul's  Without  the  Walls, 

Rome,  183 

"St.  Peter,"  95 

St.  Peter's,  Rome,  190,212 

St.  Sulpice,  Paris,  190 

St.  Theresa,  149 

St.    Thomas's,    New    York,     23, 

192,  240 

St.  Trophime,  Aries,  186 

Sakkara,  Egypt,  92 

Salem,  Mass.,  1 1 

Salonica,  185 

San    Apollinare     in     Classe, 

Ravenna,  183 

San   Apollinare   Nuovo,   Ra- 
venna, 183 
San  Clemente,  Rome,  183 
San  Lorenzo,  Florence,  25,   190, 

195. 
San  Pietro,  Toscanella,  185 

San  Spirito,  Florence,  190 

San  Vitale,  Ravenna,       185,  211 

Sanctus,  253 

Santa  Barbara,  9 

Santa       Maria       Maggiore, 

Rome,  183 

Santa  Sophia,  Constantinople,  99, 

184 
Saracenic,  9 

Sarum,  37 

Savonarola,  62 

Scopas,  97 

Second  Church,  Boston,  125,  137, 

193,  195,  221,  247 

Second    Church,    Newton,  125, 

192,  223,  225 

Seti,  92 

Shakespeare,  9,  20 

Shakespeare,  Rev.  J.  H.,  119 

Shelley,  25 

Shintoist,  65 

Siam,  16 

Sistine  Madonna,  227 


263 


Inde 


X 


Skinner     Memorial     Chapel, 

Holyoke,  123,  192 

Smyth,  Rev.  Newman,  130,  131 
"Social  Theory  of  Educa- 
tion," 109 
"Social  Worship,"  55,  166 
Society  of  Friends,  69 
Socrates,  84 
Solomon,  57 
Somerville,  Mass.,  195 
South      Reformed      Church, 

New  York,  192,  219,  221 

Southwark  Cathedral,  39 

Sowerby,  Leo,  168 

Spain,  12 

Spanish,  20,  195,  199 

Sperry,  Rev.  Willard  E.,        218 
Speyer,  186,  2 18 

"Spoon  River  Anthology,"       97 
"Star-Spangled  Banner,  The," 

Stoicism,  191 

Stone,  Arthur  J.,  141 

Strassburgh,  130 

Sturgis  &  Frothingham,  189 
Sumner,  William  Graham,     108 

Sunday  School,  107 

"Supper  at  Emmaus,"  79 

Sursum  Corda,  253 

Swedenborgian,  192 

Swiss,  130 

Symbolism,  97 

Symonds,  J.  A.,  93,  189 

Syria,  183,  185 


TANNHAUSER,  24 

Tauler,  149 

Taylor,  Henry  Osborne,  12,  182 


Te  Deum, 
Temple,  William, 
Thanksgiving, 
Thirty-nine  Articles, 
Thomae,  Charles, 
"Three   Lectures   on   Aesthe- 
tic," 
Tileston,  Mary, 


26 

175 

59 

95 


26 
81 


Torcello, 

185 

Toscanella, 

185 

Trier, 

186 

Troccoli,  G., 

141 

Turner, 

24 

Tuscan, 

195 

Tuscany, 

186 

Trinity  Church,  Boston, 

45 

UNDERBILL,     Evelyn, 
156,   162,   163,   164 


Union  Church,  Winnet 

ka,       125 

Union  Seminary, 

14,  192 

Unitarian  Church, 

215 

Unitarian  Hymnal, 

137 

United  States, 

38,  41 

Universalist  Church, 

215 

University  of  Chicago, 

14,  114 

Upjohn, 

214 

Uzziah, 

148,  149 

TT-ALENTINIAN, 
V    Vaughn,  Henry, 

183 

192 

Venice, 

185 

Versailles, 

11,  190 

Virgil, 

12 

Virgin, 

59,  227 

264 


WALKER,  Williston,     131 
Washington,  D.  C,       192 
Wellington  Avenue  Church, 

Chicago,  168 

Wesley,  John,  59,  60 

Wesleyan,  40 

Western  Church,  241 

Western  Reserve  University,  192 
Westminster  Cathedral,  Lon- 
don, 195 
Westminster  Confession,  59 
West  Newton,  Mass.,  192 
West  Point,  N.  Y.,  192 
Whitfield,  62 
Whitsuntide,  175 
Williams  College  Chapel,       192 


Index 


Winnetka,  111.,  no,  125 
Woodward,    Rev.    C.  Salis- 
bury, 39 

Worcester,  Mass.,  214,  218 

Wren,  Christopher,  190 


YALE  University,  14 

Yewdale,  Merton  Stark,   28 

'y  WINGLI,  Ulrich,     58,190 


265 


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